The Burning Time
by delectate
Summary: Complete AxR Post episode 26. Amidst this Burning Time, I see flashes of memory...a dream. This location calls to me, beckoning...bringing me back to the place I have called home.
1. Prologue: Kyrie

A/N: Hi, this is my first Witch Hunter Robin fanfic...I recently completed the series, and got inspired by some talented fic writers as of late; so after a little digging I discovered a couple interesting facts that I'm going to incorporate into this story! ^_^   
**Rampant series spoilers here, ** so if you haven't seen the end you might not want to read just yet.

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**The Burning Time**

**Prologue: Kyrie**

_Amidst this burning time,  
my heart is drowning and writhing...  
Those lies that made me dizzy,  
I took them and tore them up  
and with that, I became lost  
in the world of darkness_  
---"Shell", Bana

* * *

Robin was on the crowded subway train, her delicate hand clinging to the rail above her. She could see, at moments in the light of the subway car, her black-clad reflection across from her in the window: a slip of a girl, dressed in a high-necked black pilgrim's dress and dark trenchcoat, with ribbons wound round her golden locks of hair. Her expression was serene, peaceful.

The train passed quickly next to a darkened building. Out of the corner of her eye, standing beside her in her reflection, was Amon.

She turned to him in surprise. "A--Amon?"

He was as coldly silent as usual, staring straight ahead of him, his dark locks framing his face which seemed set in stone.

Without warning, his clothing burst into flames.

Robin's face turned from surprise to a look of horror. "_Amon!_" 

She moved to help him, but found her feet were rooted to the floor of the train.

She looked back up at him, as he gazed over at her calmly through the flames licking at his dark clothing and ebony hair. Tears came to her eyes... "_Amon, no!_"

A second passed, and as she looked upon him, she realized he was not burning. Her tears caught on her lashes. _Why is he not being burnt by the flames?_

Suddenly his face contorted unexpectedly, to form the head of a horned beast, like a ram, and she gasped in terror---

"Oi. Robin."

She had jumped when he said her name, despite being strapped into the airplane seat. After a startled moment regaining her bearings, she relaxed. "A--ah."

He was looking at her with his dark eyes, seated next to her. "Are you all right?" The question sounded like it held more suspicion than concern for her.

She let out a shaky breath, and turned to him, nodding. "Ah." She looked into her lap. "I'm all right." She fingered her necklace pensively.

Amon regarded her with a detatched curiosity. "You were making some noises, as though you might have been dreaming," he told her, keeping his voice low. They didn't need to arouse anyone's suspicion on the plane flight, especially before they were even airborne. Even assuming false identities was risky. Solomon was on the hunt.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, fingering her necklace, and wincing as she heard the jet engines of the plane begin to whine. "I just had a bad dream, it was nothing."

"We're about to take off soon, so you'll have plenty of time to sleep in the air," he told her, folding his arms over his chest. "If you get hungry, we still have leftover food in the seat pocket."

She turned away from him, towards the window of the plane, and buried her face in the soft airline-provided pillow. A muffled "Ah" could be heard from her direction, and she closed her eyes again, trying to cast the dream image from her mind.

Amon regarded her out of the corner of his eye.

***

He recalled their last few moments in Factory, just days ago, as the facility was crashing down all around them.

Robin had been awash in sorrow and grief at the fate of the witches they'd seen in the glowing Orbo extraction tanks. She had stopped sadly, weeping, as she heard the screams of the trapped witches' ghosts. Even as they were comatose they spoke to her in their agony.

"_They're screaming,_" she had cried, and with her witchfire, she had lit their green tombs to burn them and finally allay their pain.

Her eyes still aglow with flames, she hadn't noticed the ceiling crashing down on them, even as Karasuma ran for the elevator. "Robin! Amon! This way---hurry!" she cried, as she tried to hold the door open.

Amon looked from Robin to the elevator, and realized he had a choice; save himself...or save her.

"Go on!" he shouted to Karasuma, who shook her head violently. "Get yourself out of here---now!" Before Karasuma could argue with him further, the elevator door was blocked by falling ceiling debris, and she fell backwards. The doors shut in front of her.

Amon turned in time to see the ceiling falling on Robin, who was still staring at the burning Orbo tanks....he moved, lightning fast, and jumped to push her out of the way...

When the dust cleared, momentarily safe from the rubble that threatened to completely consume them, he opened his eyes. He was holding Robin in his arms, they were both on the ground..._...he had jumped thirty feet?...._

Coughing from the dust, he was just about to pull them both to their feet, when he noticed Robin was chanting something fervently, tears soaking her face. He keened his ears to listen to her harsh whispers.

"_Lord have mercy upon us,   
Christ have mercy upon us,   
Lord have mercy upon us...._"

The sounds of her sobs, intermingling with the soft chanting, tugged at his heart as he pulled her up, supporting her, and ran with her to safety, out of the hellhole that had been Factory. At least now she knew the truth. At least now they could make Solomon believe that they were dead. At least now they had hope for her.

"_Lord have mercy upon us..._"

_ I wonder if anyone's listening,_ Amon thought, as they made their escape.

. 

* * *

Next chapter: 

On the run from SOLOMON...Flight to safe harbor...A meeting of heartfelt remembrance. Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 1: Nonna

A/N: Thanks to a_breezy_era for being the first one to review my fic! ^_^ I appreciate it---as I said, I've gotten inspired by you guys who've already been writing! 

For those reading...thanks and please review!

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**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 1: Nonna**

**Jana**: Italian goddess of the Moon  
---_Ways of the Strega,_ Raven Grimassi

. 

* * *

Robin awoke to the sound of the flight's captain over the intercom. 

"_Scusi._ We will be landing shortly at _Firenze_ International Airport. Please make sure all of your items are secure for landing; and please be careful upon opening of the storage bins once we have docked at the gate, for items may have shifted during flight. _Benvenuti in Italia_."

She blinked her eyes slowly, adjusting to the fading sunlight coming in through the plane windows. She gazed out at the land they were slowly descending to. Amon made a sidelong glance at her as she observed the landscape of Tuscany, her face registering peaceful calm, and a smile that rarely appeared had graced her lips. The sight took him by surprise, and he looked at her curiously.

"_Italia,_" she whispered, her eyes shining in the afternoon sun. She turned to look at her partner in the seat next to her, and was a bit startled to see that he was watching her so intently. "Oh...Amon," she stammered.

He looked down at the text message still in his cell phone. Father Juliano Colegui had messaged them a day ago, defying his SOLOMON ties, and had given them the name and address of a contact to stay with in Tuscany, specifically in the village of Sovana. Amon had tried to call him to confirm, but Juliano's cellular number had been disconnected shortly after the arrival of the message. Despite his misgivings about trusting anyone other than himself and his partner, Amon knew they needed a location to hide out in for the time being while they formulated plans and made other contacts. Robin seemed particularly confident that her grandfather was to be trusted, and so Amon for the moment put his fragile faith in her care.

Robin followed his eyes to the text message still displayed on his phone. "Whom do you think he is sending us to, Amon?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he said, his dark eyes wary. "It's not likely someone from the Church," he postulated, "so hopefully we can maintain a low profile, despite being close to SOLOMON Headquarters." She could see he felt uneasy about their situation, especially about leaving Japan.

"They will be combing Japan," she reasoned, and he nodded. Her instincts were correct on this one. Even though Zaizen was dead and Factory had all but been destroyed, SOLOMON would want to completely clean house in Japan, and tie up any loose ends. He and Robin were definitely loose ends.

"In fact," she said thoughtfully, adopting a thinker's pose, "a small Italian village in the region of their Headquarters might be the last place they would look." Her green eyes took on a slightly impish gleam.

Amon responded to his fifteen-year-old partner with a snort that suggested he doubted her words.

***

Florence International Airport was bustling. They had packed lightly, just a small bag for each of them, and they made their way quickly and unobtrusively to the end of the terminal, hailing for taxis as they stepped out onto the arrival parking zone. The weather was mild, sunny with a cool breeze, and within minutes they had flagged down a ride. 

Robin imagined they looked as though they would fit in more now that they were in Italy, with her high-necked, conservative dress and Amon's penchant for black; she had always felt as though she dressed as an outsider in Japan, where fashion, especially among teenagers, was definitely more trendy. She entered the taxi, Amon coming in right behind her, after he quickly scoured the area to take note of people nearby. His meticulous nature---part of what had made him such a thorough Hunter---made him at all times aware of his surroundings, and for that she was glad. Even if they didn't look conspicuous by dress, it was always possible for someone hunting them to recognize them, if they let their guard down.

She leaned forward to talk to the driver of the taxi. "_Mi scusi...Sovana, per favore,_" she instructed. The driver nodded and complied.

The taxi ride took them two hours. The first half of the ride was on paved freeway and roads; once out of Siena, the drive continued on dirt and gravel, as the rural countryside sprung up around them. The landscape was amazing, not just to Amon, but also to Robin, who had grown up in the giant metropolis that was Rome. They initially passed towns with streets, palaces, churches and squares that looked to be of fifteenth century architecture; this scenery gave way to wineries and vineyards that seemed to stretch on, neverending. Finally their view became nothing but gently rolling hillsides, forests of oak trees, and in the far distance near the end of their trip, they could see the unspoiled coastline, with broad, sandy beaches and what looked to be quiet coves.

It was breathtaking.

The driver pulled up to an old road that led into a modest-looking village. He spoke to Robin in Italian, naming a figure, and she translated for Amon, who reached into his pocketbook to grasp Italian currency they'd exchanged for yen at the airport. The driver thanked them generously, with nods and bouts of _grazie_, and sped off the way he'd come after their exit.

Each holding their own bag, Robin and Amon made their way into the village, cautiously.

***

The home they were looking for was on the east end of the village, and they hiked on dirt and old stone paths for ten minutes before they found the home, nestled by itself away from the busier part of the village.

It was a rustic farmhouse, perhaps one hundred years old, perhaps older. The stones that made up the structure were readily visible, giving it an earthen, cozy feel. There was a long stone path leading up to the door, but the rest of the yard was lush with greenery, and surrounding the house on three sides were tall green oaks, offering shade and beauty.

Robin and Amon approached the steps to the door, double-checking the address, and paused at the entryway. They looked for a long moment at each other, both hesitant to initiate the meeting that was about to take place.

Instead, the door was opened for them before they even had a chance to knock at it.

An old woman faced them, her face tanned and creased from laughter and sunlight. Her hair, which curled around her ears and the nape of her neck, was a deep chestnut color, with barely any streaks of gray.

But most startlingly, she looked amazingly like Robin.

Seeing her guests, the old woman broke into a wavering smile, and her dark green eyes became watery with tears.

"Oh..." she whispered, putting a thin and weathered hand to her lips, and Amon saw she was looking at Robin. "Oh..." she said again, her voice cracking with emotion. "It's you..."

"..._la bambina...di Maria..._"

Robin's eyes widened in shock. She gasped. "Who..." she began, but her question was cut off by the old woman taking her into her fragile arms. 

Tears trickled freely down the woman's face, as she held the confused Robin tightly in her arms. "_Mi bambina,_" the old woman whispered over and over, rocking the young witch back and forth, as if she were an infant in a cradle.

Despite his surprise, Amon felt a deep emotional stirring as he watched the spectacle before him. He fought to resume his stoic facial expression from a moment earlier.

The old woman finally looked up at Amon, and a flicker of recognition crossed her features. Amon noted the expression and quickly filed it away in his memory.

"Oh..._scusi_," she said in a thick Italian accent, laughing lightly and wiping her eyes, and simultaneously releasing Robin. "Juliano told me you were coming, but I wasn't prepared for..." she trailed off as she looked again at Robin, "...what I see..." She collected her attention again. "I made sure I had everything ready; I spend the afternoon cooking, anticipating your arrival." 

Robin and Amon noticed then that they could smell food wafting in from inside the house, some sort of delicious stew, and despite herself, Robin felt her stomach growl loudly. Embarrassed, she put a hand to her stomach, eyes wide, and Amon raised an eyebrow in her direction.

The old woman laughed heartily. "See? It is good I made for you...no?" She held Robin's arms away from her body by the hands. "You're too skinny, you know that?" She winked at the slip of a girl, and Robin's facial features softened into a small smile.

The woman turned her eyes on Amon. "So...you are _il cacciatore_," she said, with a critical eye. She looked him over studiously, and Robin heard her say softly to herself, "_...molto bello..._" Robin blushed faintly as she mentally translated.

After having analyzed Amon to her satisfaction, the old woman then took him in her arms as well. His expression of shock brought another rare smile to Robin's face, but he quickly recovered and schooled his features neutrally. He leaned down into the woman's embrace, accommodating her slender frame.

The woman finally released him, looking back up into his dark eyes with a knowing smile. 

_So, she found him._

"_Per favore..._ welcome to my home..." she said, as she bade both of them entrance into her house.

"My name is Jana Luciano Colegui."

Amon's mouth dropped; the name given to him by Father Juliano had been only 'Jana Luciano'. 

"You're..." he began, but she finished for him.

"I am Juliano Colegui's ex-wife...the mother of Maria Colegui," she answered, and gazed at Robin, who was also stunned into silence.

"I am your grandmother."

. 

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Next chapter:

Binding ties of family...A Hunter's dilemma...The wise Mother protects us all. Chapter 2.

* * *

^_^ Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Another one will soon be on the way. I've included some Italian translations so it's not too confusing:

scusi: excuse me  
Benvenuti in Italia: Welcome to Italy  
per favore: please  
la bambina di Maria: the child of Maria  
Mi bambina: My child  
il cacciatore: the hunter (huntsman)  
molto bello: very handsome  
nonna: grandmother  



	3. Chapter 2: Protection

A/N: Thanks again to my reviewers! You guys are great!

A special thanks to Kala, who is going to archive this at her wonderful site, **Usuyami no Sekai! **bows I'm not worthy! ;.;

To abreezyera: Thanks so much for your feedback! I know I left a few loose ends out in the last couple chapters, on purpose—I just love to hook!—but I promise you they will be cleared up, maybe not right away but as time goes on! The waiting's the best part, hm?

To Vitani Fyrewolf: Thank you so much for your review: reading your fic was part of my inspiration for beginning one myself! You're so lucky to have spent a summer in Italy...I'm dying to visit! I hope I can do justice to it in this fic, without having been there yet.

To Kitta and Leira: Glad you guys enjoy it, and thanks for reading!

* * *

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 2: Protection**

* * *

_Grandmother._

She had said the word so matter-of-factly, that it had taken Robin more than a few seconds to absorb the meaning.

Grandmother. Mother of her mother. Married to Juliano, her caretaker as she had grown to maturity in the Roman monastery.

_So why did she not recall this woman's face?_

She wasn't the only one shocked; Amon seemed immobile from disbelief. Both of them stood rooted in the doorway like inanimate statues, until Jana finally tugged both of them by their long, dark sleeves.

"_Avanti_!" she insisted, frowning. "Before you catch death outside in cold air! I don't cook all day for nothing," she implored in broken English, pulling them both inside.

They came through the door, Amon closing it behind him; and both removed their long dark coats at Jana's insistence. Robin was wearing her traditional high-necked pilgrim's attire, a black long-sleeved turtleneck with a long, black bibbed dress, and Amon had removed his dark high-collared coat to reveal a simpler, button-down black long-sleeved shirt. As they did so, Robin noted their clothing and suppressed a smile at Jana's words—they were both dressed so warmly that they couldn't have possibly been vulnerable to the temperature outside, which was cool with the onset of dusk, but not cold.

Jana walked hurriedly back towards the kitchen, her long skirt and apron fluttering with her movements, muttering to herself in Italian—some of which was decipherable to Robin's ears, some not. "I check on the stew...make yourselves comfortable," she called out behind her, and Robin and Amon took a few moments to absorb their surroundings.

The farmhouse was modest; surprisingly large and spacious, but not with typical luxuries they would have found in a more modern home. The furniture was old, rustic; yet looked as though it were comfortable. There was a large living room area, complete with mantle and old brick fireplace, a dining area adjacent to the kitchen, and further away, rooms that were probably bedrooms and bathrooms. There was no evidence of electricity, no radios or television or electrical appliances of any sort; candles lit some of the more dim rooms, giving them a peaceful glow. Despite the meager surroundings, Robin found herself wistfully hoping for a bathroom with running water, in which she could bathe and cleanse herself of the weariness of traveling. A soak in a hot tub was the only way she preferred to end her evenings; a cleansing, purifying ritual for her thoughts as well as her body.

As if he read her thoughts, Amon spoke up beside her, his voice low and quiet towards her ear. "We will have to go into a nearby town at some point soon." Robin nodded distractedly. She instinctively knew he was already probably going through withdrawal from the idea of not being able to access his vast array of technical gadgets, most of which he had pilfered from STN-J. There was no outlet to power up his laptop, his phone, his electronic binoculars, once the batteries died.

She was sure he felt he needed those things for surveillance, and survival. But for the moment, at least, they were safe. She continued to look around the house.

There were works of art on the walls of the living area, most of them looking to have been original oil on canvas paintings. Many of them were hauntingly beautiful, depicting scenes of nature and different animals, and some of people, who were equally beautiful.

The rooms were alive with plants of every different sort; each window to the outside held plant boxes overflowing with greenery and flowers, and possibly also herbs. Robin moved into the foyer to gaze outside a large glass window overlooking the backyard, replete with oak and rowan trees amidst fields of grass and crops.

Jana had returned from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, to find them still standing in the foyer, looking like lost children who had no idea what to do with themselves. Her eyes softened wistfully, before she hardened her features and mock-scolded them. "_Per amor della Dea..._you two are so silent, like stones; I almost forget you are here," she said, shaking her head at them. She waved them towards her. "_Per favore_, come sit down and eat...you are hungry, aren't you?"

Amon glanced at Robin, who nodded and smiled at her grandmother. "_Si_," she said, and they followed Jana into the kitchen.

She had prepared _pollo di cacciatore_, a flavorful chicken stew with wine, peppers and onions in a tomato base, and Robin idly wondered if anyone else around her had caught on to the irony of the dish and the guests it was served to. Jana placed utensils and a basket of fresh bread at the table before them as they sat down.

She gestured at the stew and its ladle. "Please, eat up. I have so much food, I not know what to do with it."

"We are not really that hungry," Amon began, then realized he spoke for the both of them too soon, when he saw Robin ladling heaping piles of stew and fresh pasta onto her plate. He stopped himself, and addressed Jana again. "But we will eat something," he finished lamely.

Jana smiled at him. She served Amon after Robin had finished dishing up her plate, and then served her own plate. She took small bites as she watched the young golden-chestnut-haired witch bring a heaping forkful of stew to her mouth, closing her eyes as the heavenly taste melted on her tongue.

Robin had enjoyed Japanese food, especially Master's miso soup...but Italian food surpassed everything else by far. The taste of the home-cooked meal reminded her of the monastery, and the nuns who had cooked tasty meals for her each night.

Suddenly Jana jumped up from the table. "I almost forget—I have _vino_, very good, bottled from wine in Sovana...you must try." She took a bottle from a shelf and brought it back with her.

Robin had finished chewing her food, and set down her fork. She had begun shaking her head as a refusal, but Jana stopped her.

"Nonsense...you are in my house, you drink my wine." She poured a glass for each of them.

Robin could see there was no arguing with her on the subject...possibly on any subject. She cast a glance at Amon, who responded to her with a raise of his eyebrow, telling her in so many words, _do as you wish_.

Robin raised the glass to sip. It was the first wine she'd ever drank that was not of the Catholic practice of Communion. It was a rich red cabernet, heady in its flavor, and she decided it felt pleasant as it slipped warmly down her throat, like red velvet.

After minutes of silence punctuated by clinking forks and the setting down of glasses, Amon finally leaned back in his chair. The food had been excellent, the wine perfectly complementary. For the first time in days—no, months—he felt relaxed, as though he could let down his ever-present guard. He looked over to Jana, who had been glancing between the both of them ever since the dinner had begun. "Arigatou," he began, instantly realizing he had spoken Japanese, and not English.

" '_Grazie'_," Robin corrected him softly, and he nodded, penitent.

Jana looked from one to the other, and smiled secretly.

Amon seemed uncertain how to begin the conversation further. He made a few attempts, and finally settled with, "How long?"

Jana looked at him quizzically. "_Come?_"

"How long...have you known about us?" He directed his head at his partner. "How long have you known about Robin?"

Jana set down her glass and regarded him with an amused expression. "How long?" she repeated, her eyes twinkling. "As long as Robin exists, that is how long I have known." She gazed fondly at her granddaughter, who had put down her glass, having finished her wine, and was now listening in on the conversation.

She turned back to Amon. "Now I ask _you_ question, Amon," she began in her direct manner, putting a strange emphasis on his name, and he visibly straightened. "What did Juliano tell you about me?"

"Juliano gave us your name, but he did not mention that you had been his wife," Amon replied. "We followed his directions to come here from Japan...he told us we could seek refuge in your company. That is all he revealed."

"I see." Again her green eyes were glistening...perhaps it was the candlelight, Amon thought to himself.

"How long were you married to Father Juliano?" Robin asked softly, taking advantage of the momentary lull.

Her grandmother smiled a sad smile. "Juli and I married for seven years," she said thoughtfully. "When Maria was five years old, he was recruited by SOLOMON as a Witch Hunter. Our marriage was promptly annulled." She glanced down at the table, as though the memory was a sad one. "Maria lived with me alone, from that time on...but she saw Juliano often, at Headquarters in Rome."

"Then through Juliano, and SOLOMON, Maria met Toudou," Amon prompted, and Jana nodded her affirmation.

She smiled again, her eyes reflecting her mental traveling backwards in time. "She was so happy..." she said softly. "When she bring him home to me, she introduce him as her _fidanzata_, her promised one. I was so happy to see her in love. When she was born, doctors told us she would not live to be twenty...because she had an inherited disease, passed down in _mia famiglia_...so to see her happy was more than Juliano and I had hoped."

Amon leaned forward. "When did you know that Maria was a Witch?"

Jana's eyes became serious in the candlelight. "I know when she was born...that she was a Witch, _la bambina di Diana_. I loved her more because of it," she said, her green eyes displaying a stubborn pride. "She was a special baby, _cosi bella_, never cried or whined for anything." She looked again at her granddaughter. "You're just like her."

Robin found herself turning the corners of her mouth upwards in response. It made her feel warm inside to know how beautiful of a person her mother had been.

"When did Juliano know?" Amon asked, pressing the issue, and Robin glanced at him in moderate surprise. Why did he want to know so many details about her mother?

"Juli found out when we separated," Jana said, lowering her eyes. "Although I think perhaps he know before that. The stress of our separation made Maria act out with her power. I never meant for him to know...he was a very religious man, always make us go to Mass; I knew he'd never accept it." She looked into Amon's eyes again. "But even when he find out she awakened, he keep it quiet. He tell me...'no one will ever know'. I trusted him...and he kept her secret for all these years."

"How did you react when you found out about Toudou's experiment?" Amon inquired further. Robin was looking at him in earnest now. It didn't seem relevant to ask the questions he was asking, but Amon seemed intent on knowing all he could about her family.

Jana's eyes steeled again, as though she were daring him to contradict her opinion. "Toudou was a good man," she replied, "...he knew Maria's secrets and he wanted to make things better for her...if not her, than for her _bambina_." She straightened in her chair. "I was proud of him."

Robin glanced at her partner again, and Amon seemed satisfied with her grandmother's answer to his question.

She looked back at Jana. "Maria..."

Her grandmother and Amon both looked at her expectantly.

"She called me...Hope."

To her surprise, Jana's dark green eyes filled slowly with unshed tears.

"_Sua speranza siete_," Jana said. "You will be, always."

———

Jana took them down the hallway of her home, to allow them to wash in the bathrooms, and to show them their room. To Robin's immense relief, there was indoor plumbing, and a large, pristine white tub in which she could soak herself. She looked hopefully up at Amon, who nodded briefly—he would allow her to take her bath first before he used the bathroom, to allow her that one creature comfort she seemed unable to do without.

Jana paused by the bedrooms. She opened one door, revealing a large, comfortable looking bed with a sturdy frame. There were windows facing the side of the house, and outside the stars were clear and bright, as was the full moon in the sky.

"This is your room," she told them, and Robin began to enter, bringing her bag into the room, but Amon hesitated.

"I prefer to sleep in a separate room," he told Jana, and both she and Robin stopped, turning to look at him.

Jana wore a look of surprise, but she nodded then, and with another glance at her granddaughter, led Amon to a separate, smaller bedroom.

Robin walked the rest of the way into what was to be her bedroom, placing her bag down on her bed. She looked up into the empty room.

It was really not that big of a deal, his decision to have his own sleeping quarters apart from hers...but she was surprised; especially because despite it being initially awkward, they had shared rooms already for the previous three days, and she had found she enjoyed his presence and nearness.

_Perhaps he feels differently_, she realized, with a sudden feeling as though her heart had fallen.

She began to unpack her clothing. Jana came to tell her goodnight, embracing her again and kissing her forehead, whispering Italian charms for a peaceful and good sleep.

———

While she bathed—delighting in the feel of the hot water and soft soap against her skin---she became thoughtful, thinking about the dream she'd had aboard the airplane, before they had left Japan.

An image of Amon as he had been, standing next to her, bathed in flames.

His face contorting...changing...suddenly into something that had resembled an animal with horns...

She shivered in the warm water.

The first thought that had come immediately into her mind upon waking up, after years of Catholic training and religious indoctrination...

...had been...

_...demon_.

_Amon..._

She sunk lower in the water, allowing it to cover her nose momentarily.

———

Amon was left alone with his thoughts. He sat on the bed, his hands folded beneath his chin.

They were safe, for now...the grandmother was obviously a Witch sympathizer, and Juliano seemed to be able to keep her whereabouts secret from SOLOMON. That meant they might not be discovered here, even in the region of one of SOLOMON's three headquarters.

His mind wandered. _That's not really what you are worried about, is it._

He had had just enough wine to momentarily dull the strict voice in his head that was his conscience, the voice that in his waking hours, always drove him to be alert, watchful, suspicious, cautious...

He had thought, for a fleeting second, as Jana had opened the bedroom door...

...of sharing the bed...with her...with Robin.

_With a fifteen-year-old Witch, who slept in the nude._

It didn't seem possible that he was thinking of her in that way, that he _could_ think of her in that way...

It must have been the wine.

There were other things to be concerned about. He didn't think she had any knowledge of what had happened in Factory right after she had burned the Witches' tombs, and after Karasuma had made her escape...

She hadn't noticed when he had leapt to save her, and had landed thirty feet away from where he had jumped...

She hadn't noticed that he had recieved _no injury_ whatsoever from the purified Orbo bullet that Zaizen had shot him with...

He hadn't told her these things...and as he sat on the bed, his chin beneath his hands, listening to her finishing her bath...he decided he would not tell her now.

———

In bed, Robin lay awake, her mind drifting aimlessly, restlessly. She continued to glance up at the moon outside, hovering in its brightness in the dark sky.

She had no idea what time it was when she finally fell into a light sleep, but she was awakened shortly afterwards by the soft sounds of someone speaking below her bedroom window...soft rhythmic words, like chanting. Fully awake, she slipped out of bed—not in the least modest of her nudity—and went to the open window, level to her neck, to investigate.

What she saw made her eyes widen in the moonlight.

Jana was outside, near an oak tree with knotted roots; she was drawing a circle in the lawn with what looked like salt or coarse sugar, casting a white appearance in the dark green grass. She stepped inside the circle she had made, sprinkling the area with water from a bowl, chanting something soft and incoherent, gentle blessings that Robin could not decipher into English. She then turned to face the directions of east, south, west, and north, consecutively.

Finally, her next chants reached Robin's ears, as Jana spread her arms in supplication to the full moon:

"Great Diana, Goddess, hear my words of adoration. Hear my voice when I speak your praises. Hear my chanting as it rises upon the smoke of the incense I offer you. See me when I reach up to you; when the Full Moon shines upon me give me your blessings. Give me wisdom, Diana, and bind my oppressors. Grant me the Ancient Knowledge, to Protect those whom I love. Protect this House.

"I believe your ancient promise, the promise to all the ancient Clan, that we who seek your Holy Presence will receive of your Wisdom. Diana, think yet even for a moment, upon one who calls upon your name."

Robin's jaw dropped in stunned fascination, even as she shivered slightly from the cold breeze coming in through her window. It seemed impossible to believe that the truth had escaped her all evening.

_Jana was a Witch._

* * *

Next chapter:

Fear of shared blood...An offering of kindness...The beautiful pilgrim basks in the pure light of Diana. Chapter 3.

* * *

_Avanti_: Come!  
_Per amor della Dea:_ For the love of the Goddess  
_Si_: yes  
_pollo di cacciatore_: Hunter's chicken (chicken cacciatore)  
_vino_: wine  
_Come_: What?  
_fidanzata_: fiance  
_mia famiglia_: my family  
_la bambina di Diana:_ child of Diana  
_cosi bella_: so beautiful  
_Sua speranza siete_: You are her hope

"Prayer to Diana" from _The Witches Workbook: The Magick Grimoire of Lady Sheba_.


	4. Chapter 3: La Bella Pellegrina

A/N: I'm sorry, I don't have AIM b/c I'm lame... ;.; But I do have MSN, and Yahoo IM. But should anyone wish to contact me, please email me first.  
Thanks again to abreezyera, Vitani (yes you **are** smart!), Demeter, Michelle, Treize, and Anna for your comments! Sheesh, what's with everyone but me going to Italy? Methinks I have some traveling to do! It does sound lovely...I sure wouldn't mind taking a Tuscan vacation...now if I can just convince my boss at work that I need the time off!

Quick question to you Italian buffs out there...is the word for no, 'no' or 'non'? I seem to find it said both ways, so I was just wondering if one was used more than the other. Grazie!

Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

* * *

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 3: La Bella Pellegrina**

**la bella pellegrina:** the beautiful pilgrim

* * *

Birds chirped noisily outside as they greeted the day. 

Robin slowly awoke, her eyes still heavy and weighted from lack of sleep. She could tell it was late in the morning, perhaps ten or eleven. She hadn't slept well at all the previous night; she had tossed and turned, unable to sink into oblivion. When she had finally fallen asleep, she had awoken to a startling discovery underneath her bedroom window.

Jana, her grandmother, was casting a Witch's circle and praying to the moon.

She wasn't familiar with the prayer her grandmother had offered—having grown up in a monastery with Father Juliano, her exposure to prayer was strictly of the Catholic faith. Only prayers to God or His Son were allowed. Worshipping a deity other than the Lord was a foreign concept for her, despite her training in the magical aspects of the Craft.

But she had recognized the Casting of the Circle, a magical ritual that lent protection and power to the one performing it. It was one of the many rites of Witches that she'd been trained to recognize as a Witch Hunter.

_And her grandmother was a Witch._

Robin was of Witches' blood, although she was Toudou's genetic creation; her mother had also been a Witch. It wasn't entirely implausible, when she thought about it at length, that Jana should also be one...but it didn't make sense. Hadn't Toudou, in his research, mentioned that Witches had lost the ability to pass their genes, the traits that determined their abilities—and subsequently, their powers—to their offspring, _over 3000 years ago?_

She listened to the sounds outside of her window for a while, sitting up on her elbows in bed, still covered by the sheet. As her senses became fully awakened, she could detect sounds from within the house...most likely Jana bustling around in the kitchen. The aroma of spiced coffee and a heavenly breakfast being made wafted to her nostrils, and she was motivated enough to get out of bed and get dressed.

In her high-necked black smock and bibbed dress, her reddish-blonde hair still down around her face, Robin opened the door to the hallway—just in time to almost run head-first into Amon.

"_Oh_—_ohayo_, Amon," she stammered, caught off guard.

He brushed past her, offering a slight inclination of his head in response to her greeting, his eyes just briefly meeting hers before they skipped over her hair. His angular jaw seemed to her to be set in stone.

He walked on down the hallway.

Robin hesitated. It seemed as though his remoteness towards her, having begun to dissipate days ago, had returned. She looked on after him, her expression wondering, before she went into the bathroom to freshen up.

For some strange reason, she felt slightly empty.

———

As she entered the kitchen, she could hear Jana animatedly talking to Amon.

"...most of _mia famiglia_ lived here in Toscano since Renaissance period, around 1400s," she was telling him, as she cooked breakfast over the stove fire. Amon was seated at the kitchen table, listening intently, his arms folded across his chest.

Robin entered the room, immediately catching both pairs of eyes. Jana crowed happily at the sight of her. "_Buon giorno_," she gushed. "Sit down, I make you something to eat." She gestured at the seat next to Amon.

Robin inclined her head gracefully, a habit she'd picked up in Japan. "_Buon giorno_, Nonna," she said softly, taking her seat.

Jana's eyes followed her movements. "Ah, _bambina_, you look just like Maria with your hair down," the older woman sighed wistfully, smiling. "You should wear it like that more often."

Robin made a sound of affirmation, pleased by Jana's comment, and began playing with one of her locks of reddish-gold hair. "It has a tendency to get in my face sometimes..." she began, the rest of her sentence trailing off as she looked at Amon, whose gaze was fixated on the space in front of him.

Jana placed a steaming casserole in front of them on the table. "_Attento_, very hot, don't touch the dish," she warned, setting it down on hot pads. "Italian breakfast special...sausage, onion, peppers, egg and mozzarella cheese." She added a serving spoon and bid them to eat, taking her own seat across from the two of them.

She watched as they thanked her, then served food for themselves and began to eat, neither of them looking as though they had particularly ravenous appetites.

"Today, you should go into village," Jana prompted, her hands beneath her chin as she smiled at both of them. "Look around, see what is here. Is not much, but is a very lovely place to live." Her eyes shone with pride.

Robin found she liked the idea. "Would you like us to do some shopping for you, Nonna?" she asked politely.

"Only if you wish to," Jana replied, grinning at her granddaughter. "I have no need for something right now, but if you find something you like, you bring it home."

"Where is the nearest town that has electricity?" Amon asked bluntly.

Jana looked thoughtful for a moment. "Best you go to Siena...large city, has large buildings, many people live there. Is not far from here."

"How far?" Amon pressed.

Jana shrugged. "Taxi ride...half hour?"

Robin looked at her partner imploringly. "Amon...can we go to Siena tomorrow? I would like to look around Sovana today."

He took another bite of the casserole. "We shall see," he said when he'd finished chewing, not looking at her. His jaw tightened again as he belatedly realized the words that had escaped his lips.

_Why did he always bend his will to her?_

He had almost let a part of himself slip the previous day...he had entertained thoughts that had not existed or even occurred to him before. He was determined that he would not let his mind wander like that again...and so he sought to silence that part of him that responded instantly to her whims or requests. As he did, he began to realize something that had been burgeoning in his mind since their escape from Factory, their flight from Japan, and since they had been spending entire days together.

As much as he trusted her now, and had vowed to protect her...her presence was distracting.

As they finished breakfast, Robin cleared the dishes and brought them to Jana's sink in the kitchen. Amon had stepped away momentarily from the kitchen, and Jana was pouring her a cup of coffee from a stovetop brewer.

Robin turned on the faucet to disguise her words from her partner's exceptional hearing, and whispered to Jana. "Nonna."

"_Si?_" her grandmother replied nonchalantly, pouring another cup.

"I saw you...last night. Casting a Circle."

Jana went still, and Robin bit her lip.

"Are you a Witch?" she asked, turning away from the sink.

Her grandmother turned to face her, and as she did, Robin saw she wore a smile. "What do _you_ think, _bambina_?" she replied, her green eyes gleaming.

Robin's voice lowered even further. "Is that why you and Juliano were separated? Because you have Witches' blood, and he wished to become a Hunter?" Now she realized why she had never before met her grandmother. Juliano had purposely kept her secret.

The smile faded somewhat, and Jana looked down briefly as she nodded. "_Si._ Juli was devout to the Church; and when they came to him for service, he didn't refuse." She looked up again at Robin. "But he could never turn me in to SOLOMON, no more than he could Maria." She smiled again, but this time it reflected a hint of sorrow. "Juliano's weaknesses are the ones he loves."

Robin's curiosity had piqued. She forgot her attempts to keep her voice hushed, as she asked, "What is your power?"

"Ahh, _bambina_, I am not as powerful as you," she teased, chucking Robin underneath the chin as if she were a young child. "I have limited power. But I can see things...things that have been...and sometimes, only sometimes, I see things that _will_ be."

"The power of sight," Robin affirmed. "Tell me," she asked, "what do you see for myself and Amon?"

Jana's smile possessed secret knowledge. "You and your _consorte_?" she asked, her eyes shining.

Robin translated the word as 'partner'. "_Si_." She looked at Jana meaningfully. "What do you see happening to us in the near future?"

Jana narrowed her eyes, as though she were concentrating her thoughts, and took her granddaughter's hand as she lowered her eyes to the floor. Robin waited apprehensively for a long moment.

Finally Jana looked up. "I cannot see it now. Better if I cast the Circle." She looked at Robin, who was visibly disappointed, and smiled again. "Don't worry, _bambina_, I will tell you eventually."

Robin fidgeted with her hands as she struggled to untie the knots that her thoughts were bound in. "Nonna, I have so many questions," she said softly, her emerald eyes luminous.

To Jana, she looked pale and fragile, so much like Maria...but with a hidden strength and pure light that she did not recall her daughter possessing.

"_Con calma_," Jana whispered gently. "You have plenty of time here."

Amon appeared in the kitchen, having approached them almost soundlessly. Robin was momentarily startled, but relieved that he had entered as the conversation had already been winding down.

He looked at Robin, his features stern. "Are you ready to go?" he asked.

Jana touched her arm again affectionately, and set about finishing the cleanup in the kitchen. Robin nodded to him. "Ah."

As they walked out, closing the door behind them after Robin had fixed her hair into her usual upsweep, Jana looked down at the floor.

Taking a bowl of sugar, she began to sprinkle it in a pattern on the ground.

———

Robin had fixed her hair in her typical fashion, twisting ribbons around the reddish-gold lengths on either side; pigtails with wisps that hung free and framed her face. Amon had opted to take along his dark coat, for reasons unknown to her; it was a lovely sunny day outside.

They headed away from the house on foot, starting down the cobblestone path. Amon walked at a quick pace, his strides long, steadily looking straight ahead of him. Robin half-jogged to keep pace with him, but even then she fell behind.

"Amon, slow down," she pleaded softly, her head bowed so that she would not trip over her ankle boots on the cobbled stones. Why was he walking so quickly?

Amon stopped dead in his tracks, and Robin overshot her mark by a few feet in her efforts to keep up with him. She turned back around to face him.

"Amon?" she inquired, looking into his eyes, which to her surprise were stormy, like an angry dark sea.

He glared at her, and she felt herself visibly shrink. "When were you planning on telling me?" he asked, his tone icy.

"_N-nani?_" Robin asked, confusion making her switch to his native tongue.

"That Jana is a Witch."

Robin's eyes widened. _So he **had** heard them._

He was unfaltering in his stern gaze. "Were you going to keep it secret from me the entire time we stay here?"

"But...Amon," she started to say, but he had turned from her and continued down the path, alone.

"Amon!" she called a bit louder, following him, attempting to catch up to his strides again.

Inexplicably, he stopped again, allowing her to make it back to his side.

"Amon...I have just found out this morning," Robin asserted as she faced him again, breathing a bit more heavily from her anxiety and her exertion from having to chase him. "Last night I overheard her chanting outside by the light of the full moon. I did not want to tell you until I had had a chance to confront her in private."

"You feel as though I do not have a right to know when you do?" he asked, his words cutting deeply, and her heart sank in her chest as she realized he was right.

Nevertheless, she stood her ground. "She is my grandmother, my family...my _only_ family that I can be with, Amon," she told him, her green eyes pleading for his understanding. "I was afraid that you would be angry...like you are now." She bowed her head, folding her hands; and over her ginger hair, Amon's eyes underwent a subtle change.

"_Gomenasai,_" she whispered. "I was wrong to keep it from you." She had proclaimed him her warden, after all...the least she could do was show him the respect he deserved for such a title.

He found he could not respond to this, so he continued to walk, at a slower pace than before. Robin fell in step beside him again, understanding that he had forgiven her...at least partially.

They walked in silence for a few moments, until she could no longer contain her question any longer. "Are you still afraid of Witches like me, Amon?" she asked, staring ahead of her on the path.

There. She had said it.

A moment passed. "_Iie_. I am not afraid of other Witches." His voice was steely, rigid.

It was only later, much later, when she realized he had not answered the rest of her question.

———

After about a mile of walking, one-third of it uphill, they came upon the road that wound itself into the main part of the village, the _via de Mezzo_. Jana's home had been built on lower ground, facing an expanse of open land; but the rest of Sovana was tucked into a stony hillside. The architecture was all stone, the street was cobblestone, and at the entrance of the _via de Mezzo_, they were greeted by a large stone archway, serving as a doorway to the inhabitants of the local village.

They passed through the archway, and felt as though they had entered into another world.

Vendors had set up stands along the little cobblestone street, selling fruits and nuts, produce that was probably picked on the land surrounding the outskirts of the village. There were olives, dates, apples, and pears of all sorts, as well as figs and citrus fruits; there also were stands with fresh vegetables and roots, hand-picked from the earth. A farmer was selling fresh meat, presumably from livestock, and chicken and pork hung from skewers, being slow-roasted in the open air over a pit.

Villagers bustled about their businesses, going in and out of shops, and although the town was very small and there were not many people, it felt as though it were a thriving homestead.

Robin was amazed. "How do all of these people get along so well with so little?" she asked softly, watching one of the vendors, and subsequently tripped on a cobblestone as a result of her negligence. She stumbled and nearly fell, only to feel an iron grip on her forearm, pulling her upright and balancing her.

She looked up, surprised, at Amon.

He let go of her arm. "Perhaps we should get you some better walking shoes, if we are going to be doing some shopping," he said, finally taking note of her slim and delicate ankle boots. His eyes did not display any warmth; nevertheless, his actions had told her differently.

She smiled gently up into his eyes. "_Grazie._"

People looked at them curiously as they walked along the main road, browsing at the vendors' stands and gazing into shops. The attire of most of the villagers was meager, and Robin supposed Amon's clothing looked foreign; but she felt she did not stand out in her black high-necked smock and bibbed dress, for many of the women seemed to dress conservatively, with long sleeves and dresses. Even so, she felt as though she were being stared at right along with her companion.

She spied a vendor with fresh figs, picked from a local orchard, and she went over to his cart. She had loved figs as a child, and rarely had been able to find them in Japan.

The vendor smiled at the young girl—so young, and yet with her ensemble, she must have been one of the cloth, perhaps a Sister of God in training. "_Buon giorno_," he greeted her jovially. "_Signorina_, you like to try figs? I give you special, since you new customer; two for price of one." He seemed proud of his offer, for the figs really were of very good quality; and she was such a young, innocent-looking girl that he felt obliged to be generous. He looked over her head curiously as a tall, raven-haired man approached, coming up to stand behind her, his hair wild and his eyes dark and unforgiving.

The vendor's mouth popped open. Such a chaste-looking girl...with such an older, experienced-looking gentleman?...

"_Quanto costa, per favore_?" Robin was asking, holding nine figs in her hands, her green eyes alight with pleasure. The vendor was still startled, distracted by Amon's presence behind her, and he hesitatingly named a figure.

"_V-venti centesimos_," he said, his eyes still on her companion's.

"_Venti_," Robin repeated, preparing to get coins from her pocket.

Amon narrowed his eyes.

"_Dieci! Dieci centesimos_," the vendor was quick to correct himself, and he gave a short laugh. Amon's features relaxed slightly, and the vendor breathed a sigh of relief.

Robin paid him, thanking him with "_molto grazie_", for his generosity, and he gave her a soft pouch to carry them in while they continued to shop. Amon nodded to the man as they moved on.

The vendor looked on after them with amazed curiosity. "_Interessante_," he mumbled to himself.

———

Over the course of a few hours, they had moved along the street, buying mostly fruits and vegetables, their paces slowing as they had gradually begun to relax in the afternoon sun. It wasn't like himself to relax in a public location, Amon acknowledged; but he figured it was acceptable because of the safety of the village. Their risk of being discovered here seemed almost minimal.

Robin held out a fig from her bag to him. She had already eaten two figs herself. "Amon, try one."

Hesitantly he took it from her, examining the tear-shaped, golden fruit, before biting into it. It was sweet, and the pink-tinged juice unexpectedly ran down his chin.

Robin watched as he wiped the juice from his lips, having gotten over the initial surprise of the fruit's delicacy, and finished it off, rather ravenously.

"Are you hungry?" she offered softly. "We could stop and get a loaf of bread—"

"_Iie,_" he responded, finishing the fig and tossing the seed away. "Unless you are—"

"_No_," she said. He was aware that she was gently correcting his Japanese again, translating it to Italian.

"_No_," he repeated, and she inclined her head gracefully.

They walked along in silence for a few more moments.

"Amon."

"Mm."

"Have you lived in Japan all of your life?"

He was pensive as he paused to answer her. "I do not know where I was born," he responded. "I was too young when...when my family was separated. But I do know that I had lived in Japan since I could remember." He looked over at her. "Why?"

"You do not look very Japanese," Robin said, simply. "That is why I asked."

He knew it was true; his features had always been a bit different from most Japanese people. His face was more angular; his eyes less round, more cat-like. He supposed there was a blending of his ancestry somewhere...but he knew so little of his own background that it was impossible to verify.

"Your family was separated?" she asked, bringing him back to the conversation, and he visibly stiffened.

Robin instantly understood. "_Vedo_," she said softly, shaking her head. "You don't need to tell me."

He looked at her again, mildly surprised, but grateful for her discretion. "_Grazie_, Robin," he said quietly. He tried to ignore the look of pleasure on her face at his unprovoked usage of Italian, but still he saw her out of the corner of his eye.

They came upon a man in front of a small cafe, who was busily trying to light a fire underneath the grill outside. The breeze was blowing out each feeble match he tried to light. It sounded as though he had already gone through several.

"_Per favore, per amor di Dea_," he begged, as Robin listened from the street in passing. "_Diana, dare mi luce!_" She watched, her eyes widened, as he struggled with another match.

"_Maledizione!_" he cried in frustration, as the match again blew out. He turned to go into the cafe, yelling, presumably for his wife to help him, or to find a stronger lighter.

Robin and Amon passed by the cafe on their path on the street, and she inclined her head ever so slightly.

The grill sprang alight with flame.

The shop owner, seeing the lit fire, ran back outside and laughed maniacally, shaking his fist to the sky. "_Grazie, Diana! Grazie!_"

Amon's eyes widened then, and he stopped in his tracks, looking at Robin accusingly. "_Robin!_"

She turned her head towards him, surprised and a bit fearful.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you think you're doing?"

She looked hurt. "I wanted to help him," she explained, but she saw he was having none of it.

"How can you use your Craft out in the open like this?" he asked, his voice harsh but with stern control. "Do you want us to be discovered?"

She shook her head, repentant. "No, of course not..." She was having trouble explaining herself. "I simply wanted to assist him, he was having such a difficult time—"

"That is no excuse for betraying our confidence," he seethed, "_my_ confidence."

Robin was visibly upset. It seemed to her that all of the good moments she'd spent in his company during the afternoon were unraveling before her very eyes.

But something had occurred to her when he had said 'betray'.

"Amon...are you ashamed of me?" she asked hesitantly, her green eyes glazed with pain. "Of what I am?"

He looked at her for a long moment, then turned away.

"No, I'm not...ashamed," he bit out unwillingly. "But you should not use your powers so carelessly...as though you are showing them off." The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.

Robin had steeled herself for his response, and as a result her words were delivered with a stern yet gentle audacity, like velvet-covered iron.

"I don't use my power to show off, anymore than you had brought your gun today to intimidate anyone," she said, looking directly into his eyes, and watched as his features displayed uncharacteristic shock.

"How did you—"

"I remembered your gun is strapped into that jacket," she answered softly. "That is why you always had the jacket with you when you Hunted."

He felt the anger seeping out of his skin, as she went on.

"I have lived my entire life until now, doing things that I thought were right," she said, bowing her head as she spoke, "but they weren't...I believed people whom I trusted, and they had lied to me." She looked up at him again.

"I want to do things now the way _I_ wish to do them, Amon."

He could not argue with her passionate plea; all of his adult life, while working for Zaizen, he had done the man's dirty work, had been faithful in service to him...and Zaizen had repayed him not only by lying to him, but by trying to kill him.

Amon knew what it was to regret.

And another thought, an errant one, occurred to him...through Robin, perhaps he would know what it was to feel something else.

———

Aside the shop, in an alley corner, an old woman was watching the exchange with knowing eyes. She had seen the fire, and the resulting argument between the young girl and her companion.

She smiled to herself in wonderment, whispering. "It _is_ you..._La Bella Pellegrina._"

———

They had finished shopping an hour later, having continued on from the earlier argument in silence. Robin could detect that he was still slightly angry with her; but at the same time, it seemed as though he were looking at her in a new light.

She stopped at the edge of the downtown area as they were about to leave, gazing at a vending jeweler's precious stones. She pointed to a particularly beautiful one, with azure and emerald colors intermixed. "_Come questa chiami?_" she asked the vendor, who looked over to where she pointed.

"Ammonite," he responded. "_Gemma di la serpe_."

She gazed at it longingly, before Amon finally urged her to head back with him; it was already late in the afternoon, and it was best to get back to Jana so she would not worry. Despite his earlier apprehension about her grandmother, Amon knew that even if she was a Witch, that he would protect her, as Robin had attempted to. She was important enough to Robin that he felt he could overlook the fact that she was an unknown Witch, with unknown powers.

After they had made it back to the house, Robin went about assisting her grandmother with cooking, as Amon went to work on his laptop, scanning news articles and vidfeeds from Japan.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with pasta and fresh salad made with the vegetables they had acquired while shopping. Jana noted the tense silences between her two guests, but made no mention of it.

Later that night, Robin lay awake again in bed, staring at the moon. It was still full, as it would be for two more days; suspended and swollen in the sky, a bright beacon of mysterious energy.

She felt the moonlight caressing her through the window, gentle rays of wisdom, calming her.

"_Diana_," she whispered.

She fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Next chapter: 

Uncertainty...Emerging flame...Connection. Discovering a familiar. Chapter 4.

* * *

Okay, now I have Italian AND Japanese translations! 

Ohayo: (Japanese) Good morning  
Buon giorno: Good morning/ good day  
Attento: Careful  
consorte: 1. The husband or wife of a reigning monarch ; 2. a partner or companion  
Con calma: slowly  
Nani: (Japanese) what  
Gomenasai: (Japanese) Forgive me, pardon me  
Iie: (Japanese) No  
Signorina: Miss  
Quanto costa, per favore: How much, please?  
venti centesimos: twenty cents  
Dieci centesimos: ten cents  
Interressante: Interesting  
Vedo: I see  
Per favore, per amor di Dea: Please, for the love of the Goddess  
Diana, dare mi luce: Diana, give me light!  
Maledizione: Dammit!  
Come questa chiami: What is this called?  
Gemma di la serpe: serpent's gemstone


	5. Chapter 4: Flame

A/N: This and Chapter 5 were originally going to be one long chapter, but I decided to break it up for a couple of reasons....one being that it was taking me too *@#$# long to write it. ^^; The other is that I didn't want to shortchange certain scenes. So think of this and the forthcoming Ch. 5 as one whole _long_ day for them.... ^^

Thanks again to my wonderful reviewers Breezy and Vitani; as well as Sarah, Samantha, and Ziggy! Regarding the inferences I'm making, I notice that a couple of people are starting to put two and two together ^^, and others are beginning to ask more questions...I can only assure you guys that those questions will be answered later on in the story, and that I *am* going to address those issues. I don't like to leave too many potholes, even at the expense of getting down to gritty details---so you can rest assured that by the end of this story, you will have all of the answers that you (hopefully) need! ^^

Thanks for reading!

***************************************

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 4: Flame**

* * *

She was high above him, on a pit laden with wood and twigs, looking down into his sorrowful face. His eyes were dark and glazed with pain, his black hair clinging to his face...and she could see, even from the distance she was at, that his face was...

....was streaked with...tears?

_Amon?_

He was mouthing her name, his whole body straining with the effort of screaming, but it was silent to her ears. 

A flash of light suddenly obstructed her view...and when it had faded, she saw an enormous pillar of smoke rising in front of her, high into the air, forming the shape of a horned ram's head...

Robin awoke with a start, gasping and sitting straight up in bed, her naked form covered by the sheet.

_It was just another dream_, she reassured herself, panting.

_So why did she feel such a sense of pervasive foreboding?_

She was hesitant to analyze the dream as she had her previous one...again there was the presence of Amon, and an animal with horns. In both dreams, the prospect of what the association of the two might have meant, disturbed her conscience deeply.

She sat, blinking, for minutes, before getting out of bed.

***

Amon rose to the sounds of Jana in the kitchen once again, as he had awoken the day before. It seemed as though she insisted upon cooking every meal for them herself, without any assistance and without any thought of sampling some of the numerous small cafes from the village. It mystified him how she could be so doting on them, when she had only just met both himself and Robin a couple of days earlier. 

He recalled Robin's visit to Nagira's office, after he had taken her back into his custody and before their raid on Factory, and her delivery of drinks and soba noodles that she had insisted upon making...perhaps the mothering instinct ran strong in her family.

He dressed and made his way out of his room, sweeping his eyes across the hall to notice Robin's bedroom door was ajar.

Amon approached cautiously. If she was still asleep...images came to his mind, unbidden, and faster than he could push them back into his subconscious.

He nudged the door open further, allowing his eyes access, and saw that the room was empty, the bed neatly made, the pillows arranged. It looked as though she had been up for some time.

He stood for a moment in the doorway, and then headed for the kitchen.

Jana was humming to herself, happily scrambling eggs and sausage on the stovetop, and looked up as he entered. "Ah, _buon giorno_, Amon," she greeted him happily, smiling at him. "Sit, eat."

He resisted the urge to greet her with "Ohayo" and instead settled for returning the phrase in Italian, immediately glancing at the empty kitchen table.

_Where was she?_

Before he could speak, Jana was already answering for him, having noticed his glance. "Robin, she went into town early today," she explained, removing the skillet from the fire and moving to the table, to dish up the food. She shook her head. "I tell her to eat something, but she have this bag of figs that she bought yesterday---"

"I thought," he began, interrupting her chatter, "that we were going to Siena today."

Jana looked up at him and looked surprised. "Oh, don't worry, she said she come back in afternoon, she remember about your trip." She shook her head again, this time fondly. "That _bambina_, she's so responsible for her age, she never forget a thing..."

Amon relaxed slightly, and Jana caught it out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes crinkled with merriment as she served him hot food, and he sat down obediently across from her at his place setting.

He briefly considered going out after her, to make sure nothing happened to her; but he recalled her emotions from the previous day they'd spent in the village, and he decided against it...._perhaps she'd rather be alone for a while._

Jana sat down across from him, serving her own food and placing the skillet on the table. She watched him carefully as he began eating, his dark brow reflecting deep thought.

"I'm sure she'll be fine on her own for a few hours," she said gently, as though to ease his mind. 

Amon looked up from between bites, giving a singular affirmative. "Mm." Inside, he knew so also, but he was still surprised she had gone on without him. He would have accompanied her again to the village, if she had asked him to. 

Jana folded her arms on the table, still watching him with interest. "You and I, haven't talked much, have we?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. 

Amon regarded her with a raised eyebrow as he ate, but he said nothing more.

"What I mean is," she began, "I've not been completely honest with you."

He put down his fork, straightening in his seat. He knew what was coming.

"But it doesn't matter, _non ha importanza, si?_" she asked, with a smile. "You already know."

"That you are a Witch."

"_Si._" She nodded slowly, and looked at him as though to assess his intentions. "How does _il cacciatore_ feel about that?" She knew he recognized the phrase she had greeted him with two days before.

He blinked. "I am not going to Hunt you."

"Why not?" Her curious smile was daring.

It seemed as though he struggled with his answer, finally settling for what seemed the easiest to admit. "Because you are important to Robin....you are her family."

Her dark green eyes glinted with amusement, before shadows slowly began to appear in them, and her graceful smile faded from her lips. Amon felt a chill suddenly sweep through his entire being, but he kept his expression neutral as he looked at Jana.

"There will come a time, Amon," she began in a grave tone, all previous jestering aside, "when your convictions will need to be stronger than that." 

His eyes narrowed, almost threateningly. "What do you mean?"

"When that time comes," she spoke ominously, "you must not be afraid."

"Afraid?" he asked, transfixed. Suddenly he no longer felt in control of the conversation.

Jana blinked, and just as suddenly, it was as if the shadows lurking in the green depths of her eyes had disappeared. She glanced down at his empty coffee cup.

"Oh..._scusi_," she said, her previous humor returned, "I should get you some more coffee." She gave him another benevolent smile, to his surprise, and slowly stood to go to the stove.

Amon stared after her, his dark eyes searching.

***

Robin made her way into the heart of Sovana's township, passing underneath the stone archway into the _via de Mezzo_. She felt a momentary hesitation as she entered onto the main street. She had been so startled by last night's dream that she had instantly wanted to distance herself from the source of her concern...but at the same time, she felt a twinge of regret for not informing him before taking her leave. Her mind held jumbled thoughts.

The distant and aloof partner....having been given direct orders from SOLOMON to execute her, he had instead become her savior and chaperone...

_Amon._ Sounding his name in her thoughts had almost the same effect on her as when she said his name aloud.

What did it mean? Why did she keep having dreams depicting Amon as a demon? 

Despite SOLOMON's and the Church's betrayals, Robin had held tight to her belief that God had not abandoned her. But her dream made her consider the unthinkable.

_Is this a message from Him?_

She had a brief flash of memory of the convent...of Father Juliano...of kneeling at the altar, practicing her faith.

**_The devil desired to deceive Man...._**

The ominous edict of the Church's core belief lingered in her mind. 

_Am I not to trust Amon?...._

Again, a vision of her partner, turning away from her, his head angled so that his hair just barely hid his eyes from her view...

_...Will he end up turning away from me as SOLOMON did?..._

The last thought was almost too much for her already heavy heart to bear, and she shook her head, trying to rid it of the negativity that had ensnared her.

She was lost in thought as she wandered through the mainstream of the village, her head down in her focus, and did not see the woman in front of her, nearly colliding with her as a result.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise, as the old woman's face leaned up close to hers. "..._Scusi_."

The old woman, with snow-white hair covered by a dark shawl, was smiling up into her face. "Ahh, _sono lei_." She cast a knowing look at the girl, and for a moment Robin was confused.

She looked at the woman with curiosity. "_Ci conosciamo già?_" she asked softly. She didn't recall meeting a woman of her age the other day--the woman looked at least to be in her seventies, about twenty or so years older than Jana. But apparently she had recognized Robin.

"_Non,_" the woman responded, and left it that, serving to confuse Robin further. To her surprise, the woman began speaking broken English, heavily laced with an Italian accent. "But I know who you are."

"_Come?_" Robin whispered, her eyes wide. Had she really been too careless the other day?

"You are relative of Jana Luciano," the woman stated firmly, her brown eyes burning into Robin's. "_Si?_"

"_Si_," the young witch responded, too curious to preserve her anonymity now. "_Sai come?_"

The woman chuckled, her withered hand clutching Robin's arm affectionately. "I know many thing. When you are old, you know many thing." 

Robin knew that she resembled a younger version of Jana; but for the woman to have put it together in her head without seeing both of them at the same time, astounded her. She was curious to know how well known her grandmother was in Sovana. "_ E' mi nonna,_" Robin explained. "What do you know about her?"

But the woman did not seem to want to discuss her grandmother any more than had already been done. "You tell me your name---what is your name, _bambina_?" The woman had taken her arm now, and Robin was careful to match her steps slower at first to the old woman brandishing her walking stick---but she soon realized it wasn't necessary; the woman was keeping pace with her own.

"Robin," she answered. "_E lei?_"

"Giovanna." The old woman smiled up at her. "Where you from, Robin?" she pressed, leading her further into the main square of the village, and Robin recognized many of the familiar shops she and Amon had visited the previous day.

"Most recently...from Japan," she answered hesitantly. "However, I have lived in _Roma_ for many years." She looked around curiously at some of the villagers who had begun to take notice of her walking with the old woman, and were now following her, whispering to each other. Ahead up the street, two men were chopping with axes at the base of a large oak tree that had grown over onto a shop's roof. People were still milling about in the street, but many of them had stopped to let her and Giovanna aside, as if the street traffic were parting for them.

"Japan, _si_?" The old woman smiled, and turned to face her to look up at her with interest. "What reason you go to Japan, so far away?"

"I was sent there, by the Church...._un missione_," Robin responded. It wasn't a lie...but she had no intention of divulging further details of what her 'mission' had been.

"_Missione_," Giovanna repeated, her eyes glinting mysteriously in the morning sun. "That is where you met _sua consorte, si?_"

"_Mi consorte?_" Robin blinked. Perhaps the woman had seen her shopping with Amon yesterday. She supposed Amon's clothing _did_ in fact look Asian in origin. "Ah..._si_." 

Something distracted her thoughts. _...chop...chop...chop..._

She briefly wondered why the woman was smiling so often at her, and looked up suddenly. She realized they had stopped in front of a cafe. 

It was where she had lit the shop owner's grill.

The old woman turned to face her. "Here is where I saw it."

Robin froze.

"Light the grill," Giovanna instructed her.

"_C-come?_" the young witch asked, stammering. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The old woman was telling her to use her Craft!

"You can do it, _bambina_," she encouraged, smiling again. "Light the grill with your flame."

Robin calmed herself. There was no other way out of it---she would simply convince the woman that she had imagined what it was that she had seen the other day. She felt a pang of regret at having to lie, but she remembered Amon's words...and his face as it had registered disappointment. She would not give away their secret so easily.

She shook her head gently, closing her eyes. "_Scusi_...I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." The village onlookers, who had gathered behind her and the old woman, chattered amongst themselves animatedly at her denial.

_...chop....chop....chop...._ She heard the hacking sound as though it were ringing in her own ears. She looked back out towards the source of the noise again.

Giovanna was attempting to get her attention. "_Si_, Robin...you _do_ know." The woman's voice had become more firm. "Use your power."

In the midst of the murmuring coming from the throng of people behind them, someone called out, "_Figlia di Diana!_"

Robin's discomfort was steadily growing...but it was not coming from where she had expected it. Instead of being concerned about the horde of onlookers who seemed intent on viewing a display of her Craft, her attention was elsewhere.

"_Robin_," the old woman implored, her brown eyes burning into the young witch's.

_...chop...chop....CRACK._

Robin's head snapped up at the splintering sound, her vision narrowing precisely at the tree on the opposite side of the street....it had been cut through and was swaying with intent....

...a young child running, her dark hair streaming out behind her....straight into the path....

"_Attento!_" The panicked men yelled for her attention. A mother screamed.

The tree fell towards the road---

---and promptly disappeared, incinerated mid-fall in a sudden flash of flame and heat.

The child cried out in surprise, having fallen to the street in the confusion. She began to cry, but Robin could see she was unhurt. The mother rushed up to her fallen daughter, openly weeping.

The old woman and several others in the crowd had turned to the sound of the men shouting, and the woman's scream; they had seen the tree spontaneously ignite. Their murmuring and chattering had ceased, giving way to dead silence. They returned their collective gazes to the ginger-haired girl in the pilgrim's dress, standing before them, as the bright flame that had lit her green eyes slowly died out.

She looked at Giovanna, who was gazing at her with a certainty and triumph in her wizened eyes. 

"It _is_ you...._bambina di Diana_...." the old woman said excitedly, advancing on the girl. She held out a crooked finger to point directly into Robin's face, as she solemnly proclaimed,

"_Witch_."

Robin tensed, holding up her chin defiantly. She had no idea if the mob was going to attack her, or---

Giovanna threw her arms around the chestnut-haired slip of a girl, laughing, and dropped her walking stick. Robin gasped in surprise as the crowd of people advanced on her, not to harm her but to praise her, some reaching out to touch wisps of her hair.

The old woman stopped laughing long enough to tell her, "We have been waiting _a long time_ for you to come home..._bella pellegrina_."

***

Amon was at his laptop, which he had set up on a desk in the dark bedroom that he occupied.

He searched meticulously, browsing through news reports and websites that Michael had long ago taught him were covered-up news briefs of STN-J and Witchhunting activity. Amon no longer trusted his ability to access Michael's databases directly, as he had been used to doing; he was convinced now that any move he made, even in cyberspace, would be picked up immediately by SOLOMON. He had no idea if he was being hunted along with Robin, but he wasn't about to give his position away before he'd found out.

His acute sense of hearing picked up the sounds of Jana in the kitchen. She was watering plants, repotting others, and humming softly to herself.

_Strange woman._

Her bizarre episode in the kitchen had startled him, though he would never have admitted it to anyone. Such a jovial, lighthearted person....and yet, she had suddenly delivered an ominous message, one that seemed as though it were meant to instill dread in him....

_Almost as if she were doing it against her own will._

He blinked, his fingers pausing on the keys....and then resumed typing.

After he had scanned the recent briefs and articles, finding no references or clues he was looking for, he sat back in the desk chair, his dark head bowed in thought.

He sat back up, opened an email dialogue, and began typing again.

It was time to contact Nagira.

***

The crowd was dispersing; some of the villagers had managed to get a close look at the "_strega di fuoco_", and were content. Others had insisted upon coming up close to her and touching her clothing or her hair. Robin had fought the urge to flee, realizing they meant her no harm; yet she was still shaken by the entire event, and not entirely comfortable with the idea of half of the town's villagers aware of her identity.

More than anything, she was afraid of her partner's wrath. _Amon is not going to like this._

She looked at the old woman again, as a passing woman touched the sleeve of her pilgrim's smock. "Giovanna," she implored. "You must not speak of who I am to anyone else, outside of Sovana." She gazed meaningfully into the old woman's eyes. "_Per favore... è tanto importante_."

Giovanna laughed softly. "_Bambina_, we not have means to tell anyone outside of our village," she explained. She patted Robin's shoulder affectionately. "Besides, you are safe here..._sana e salva_." 

Robin was about to disagree, thinking of SOLOMON's Headquarters in Rome; but before she could, she was interrupted by loud purring. She looked down in surprise at her feet, to see a small, silver-gray cat rubbing up against the legs of her dress. 

"That _gatta_ never comes up to anyone, _per amor di Dea_," Giovanna exclaimed in wonder, slowly reaching down to pet its soft fur. The fey creature jumped up to meet her caressing hand, rubbing its head along her fingers, and she laughed.

A man was running up to them, and Robin recognized the vendor who had sold her the figs when she had been with Amon the previous day. He had obviously been a part of the crowd who had witnessed the spectacle. He approached them with rushed steps, carrying a bag.

"_S-signorina_," he stammered, thrusting the bag into her arms. "_Per favore_...accept this gift." He clasped his hands together, barely able to contain himself.

Robin peeked into the paper bag. There was a multitude of fruit; figs, olives, pears...

She handed the bag back. "_Scusi...non accetto_," she said softly.

"_Per favore_," he begged, his eyes pleading. 

Robin was afraid to look too deeply into his eyes and see what she perceived to be his fear of her...but when she did look, she saw no fear; only contrition, humility ...and adoration.

She held the bag close to her chest again, and bestowed a gracious smile upon him. "_Molto grazie_." The man's face lit up with happiness.

She eventually parted ways with Giovanna and other villagers, promising to return in another day, and continued to shop for another hour along the street. Her heart was strangely lightened. The silver-gray cat followed, looking up at her from time to time and trotting alongside her steps.

***

She opened the door of Jana's house, which always remained unlocked until nightfall. "_Eccomi qua_," she announced, holding the bag of fruit, and stepped inside.

"_Bentornata_," Jana exclaimed happily. "You enjoy yourself, _si_?" she asked, and immediately looked down at Robin's feet, as the silver cat trotted into the house. "Oh..."

Robin put a hand to her mouth, embarrassed. "_Scusi_...it followed me home, I tried to tell it to go away, but---"

Jana was laughing. "Ohhhh, _sì bella_, what a beautiful _gatta_." She stroked the cat's fur, as the creature purred with delight. "Let me get some cream." She reached into the makeshift icebox and set about getting the cat's treat.

Robin set down her bag of fruit on the table. "Jana...I have something to tell you."

"_Si?_" her grandmother responded, and Robin began to tell her what had happened in the village.

Unseen by her new mistresses, the cat stealthily made its way from the kitchen into the hallway. 

***

He had heard the sounds of the door, as well as her voice....he knew that Robin was home.

Amon continued browsing, his chin cupped in his hand, as he sat torn between listening to her conversation with her grandmother, and attempting to ignore it. He decided that he wouldn't get up and run to greet her....he would wait. She would approach him eventually.

As he sat, he felt something brush up against one of his legs. He turned away from the laptop momentarily, and looked down past his right shoulder.

Out of the left corner of his eye, he suddenly caught the sight of the cat, as the creature sprang up onto his desktop. He made a surprised noise, looking at her with interest. He was not used to being close to animals...he had never befriended any, nor owned any pets.

She sat in front of him and blinked slowly, gazing up into his face with calm serenity and wise green eyes.

_Those look familiar._

The cat eyed him for a moment, then raised its paw, claws extended, as if to beckon him. 

Curious, Amon moved closer. His face was almost eye to eye with the cat.

Without warning, she leapt up on hind legs and head-butted him affectionately, her purr as loud as a motor. Amon sputtered in surprise....he'd received a noseful of fur as a gift.

It was just then that Robin had hesitantly opened his ajar door further, her gentle knock too soft for him to hear....and witnessed the display of the cat's affection for him. Her eyes softened, and sparkled with amusement. 

Amon looked to her at the door, the cat's tail curling around his face and past his nose as she paraded in front of him. He looked momentarily both lost and bewildered, before his features slipped into the cool facade they were accustomed to. 

He wiped his nose and mouth of cat fur, and resumed staring at the screen in front of him. "Okaeri." His tone was sullen.

She nodded, hesitant to speak now that he had schooled his face. "When do you want to leave for Siena?" she asked softly.

"Give me a few moments," he responded, his eyes still scanning the screen. She bowed her head slightly, leaving him to his work, and disappeared from the door. The cat followed her out, trotting down the hallway after her long dark skirts.

Amon's eyes returned, against his will, to the empty doorway.

***************************

Next chapter:

A Prayer....Trust not misplaced....The children of Darkness learn the Path. Chapter 5.

* * *

More translations for ya!

sono lei: it is you  
ci conosciamo già : have we already been acquainted?  
Sai come?: how do you know?  
E' mi nonna: She is my grandmother  
e lei: and you  
un missione: a mission  
sua consorte: your consort  
Figlia di Diana!: Daughter of Diana  
---(doesn't that look like "fig of Diana"?? ^^ hehe)  
Attento!: Look out!  
strega di fuoco: Fire Witch  
Per favore... è tanto importante: Please, it's very important  
sana e salva: safe and sound  
gatta: female cat  
per amor di Dea: for the love of the Goddess  
non accetto: I can't accept  
Eccomi qua: I'm here  
Bentornata: welcome back  
okaeri [Japanese]: welcome back  



	6. Chapter 5: Truth

A/N

Thanks to Demeter and Lariana, for reviewing this last chapter!

To everyone reading this one: Thanks, and please review!

---

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 5: Truth **

* * *

Robin returned to the kitchen, where Jana had placed a saucer of cream for the cat on the floor. The silver-gray feline sprinted forward from her place at Robin's side to intercept the treat, her tail twitching from side to side as she drank.

The young witch approached her grandmother, who saw the downcast green eyes hidden by long wisps of chestnut-blonde hair. "Robin?" Jana asked, concerned.

"We're to leave for Siena now," she answered, folding her hands in front of her. She hid her eyes from Jana, who had detected a note of sorrow in her voice.

The grandmother's eyes softened. _Too soon they have found each other...before both of them know the truth. They hide too much._

"How do you plan to get there?" Jana asked her. It seemed a reasonable question; Amon had not even mentioned calling a taxi.

Robin shook her head slowly, from side to side. "_Non lo so_."

Jana's heart ached as she gazed upon the girl, sensing her inner turmoil. She devised a new course of action to distract Robin from her introspection.

"So...what should we name this _gatta_ we have here?" she asked, eyeing the cat, putting her hands on her hips authoritatively as if in mock annoyance. "_Pelosa intrusa?_"

The name made the corners of Robin's mouth turn upwards. "_Non_," she answered. She looked at the cat's sleek silver fur, her feline grace, her wise green eyes. "Something nicer."

Jana held her chin, thinking, glancing up at Robin as she did. "What about....'Bast'?"

"Bast?" Robin repeated, looking up at her grandmother in confusion. "_ Che cos'è quello?_"

"Bast was an Egyptian goddess," Jana explained, reaching down to touch the silver fur again, and the cat responded affectionately in kind. "She was a beautiful but fierce goddess, protector and avenger of the Sun god Ra. She had the body of a woman, but the head of a cat." She looked up at Robin, who seemed fascinated by the explanation. "She is also the guardian of pregnant mothers and children...she is invoked upon hopes of fertility."

"_Is_?" Robin asked. "Do people still worship such an ancient goddess?"

Jana laughed. "Of course they do, _bambina_...the Etruscans, and later Greeks and Romans kept her image alive, in different forms. To this day, there are people who pay her homage." Her smile was one of knowing. "The myth says that she was created from the fire of the eyes of Ra, as a creature of vengeance..." she said slowly, "...to punish Man for his sins."

Robin's eyes widened. "Punish...?" she asked, startled. That didn't sound like such a nice myth, after all.

_But then again...have you been doing any differently with Witches?_ her conscience nagged, _being their final judge and jury?_

"But she did more than punish. She was also peaceful, a protector of the righteous," Jana asserted, petting the cat once more. "Ah...in any case...'Bast' makes a good name for her." The cat seemed to purr in affirmative response.

Amon appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in a long, light tan-colored jacket, with a dark shirt underneath; different than his usual black trench coat. Robin looked at him curiously, wondering when he had obtained the jacket. Perhaps he had purchased it before they had left for Italy.

He looked at Robin, realizing she was still dressed in her usual attire. "We should leave soon," he stated abruptly.

"Should I..." she began hesitantly, looking down at her bibbed dress, "...change my clothes also?"

Amon paused, before fishing in the pocket of his jacket for something. "It would be advisable to wear something different, not clerical. Put these on," he said, handing her a pair of dark sunglasses. "And wear your hair down," he said, almost as an afterthought, glancing at her chestnut-blonde locks. "Your hairstyle is your trademark."

"_Si_," she answered softly, and Jana spoke up from behind her.

"I have something you can wear instead of your with me to the bedroom, I help you find it." She hurried out of the room, Robin following close behind.

---

In Robin's bedroom, Jana went straight to the closet, fishing out a garment covered by clear plastic wrapping, as though it had been professionally cleaned. "This should fit you nicely," she said, holding it up to her granddaughter's chest, smiling gently.

Robin looked at the item Jana held in front of her. It looked to be a sleeveless ivory-colored cashmere knit top, with a scooped neckline, and matching cashmere shawl. It suddenly dawned on her whose clothing this was.

_Maria's._

She shook her head slowly, her green eyes pained. "Nonna..._non posso_..."

"Nonsense, _bambina_. She would want you to wear it, were she alive today," Jana asserted. She looked from her granddaughter to the outfit and back again. "You are a bit skinnier than she was at this age...but it will fit you. Try it on." She went back to the closet, leaving Robin holding the wrapped clothing, and fished out another item, this time a long black skirt. "This too," she insisted. "Maria had shorter skirts than yours in her wardrobe...but I don't think you want to try too much too soon," she said, glancing back at her granddaughter again with a wink.

Robin looked down at herself. This would be interesting.

---

Moments later, Robin emerged from her bedroom, followed by Jana.

As she stepped into the foyer facing the kitchen, she saw Amon turn and look at her, his dark eyes betraying a momentary shift, his jaw tightening as it had before. It was hard for her to discern exactly what the look was---it had disappeared before she could completely register it. She knew she looked different, with her ginger hair down around her bare shoulders, and the flowing black skirt, long but more slimming than her bibbed pilgrim's dress; she supposed the look she had nearly missed was that of his shock at seeing her in different attire than he was accustomed to.

Undetected by her, he clenched both fists at his sides, his knuckles nearly cracking.

He nodded tightly. "_Ikimashou_."

Jana waved at them from the foyer as they departed. "_Fare attenzione_," she called out after them, closing the door gently.

---

They headed out onto the main road, towards the entrance of the _via de Mezzo_, where the dirt road that led out of Sovana started. Robin walked quickly to keep pace with her partner.

"Are we going to walk?" she asked, unbelievingly. It seemed beyond the realm of possibility; but they had still not yet procured a ride. Her brows peaked in consternation as she realized she was still wearing her delicate ankle boots, not suited for hiking.

Amon shook his head. "_Non_," he responded, and she inwardly relaxed at his choice of language. "I had seen vehicles, cars and trucks, driving by on the main road when we were out in the village the other day...I thought perhaps one of them might be going into town." He glanced over at her. "We could hitch-hike."

She nodded. It would probably attract less attention that way, at least in Siena.

As they neared the end of the road, they did in fact see delivery trucks, small pickups with empty flatbeds, driving by. It looked as though they had been transporting goods into or out of Sovana earlier in the day. Amon flagged one down, and it stopped before them alongside of the road.

Amon leaned towards the passenger window, which was down. "_Scusi_," he said, suddenly realizing he was still not fluent enough in Italian yet. "Ah...Siena..." He struggled for words, and Robin came to stand beside him with the intention of helping him.

The truck driver's eyes lit up with recognition when he saw her. "Ah, _signorina_," he called out, and Amon started, looking at Robin in surprise. "_Voi aver bisogno di giro?_" the driver asked.

"_Si, a Siena, per favore,_" she answered, vaguely recognizing the man from her earlier episode in the village. "_Ti andare in città?_"

"_Si, si...avanti!_" He urged them to get into the back of his truck, and Robin thanked him, smiling, as she turned to Amon, who shrugged. They headed to the flatbed portion of the truck, Amon climbing on easily through the back. He turned to help Robin up, grasping her forearms to steady her as she climbed on, aware that she was merely a featherweight. They went to sit close to the cab, where it was surprisingly clean, and settled themselves in for the ride.

Amon turned to her as the truck started, lurching away from the side of the road. "How did that man recognize you?" he asked in a confidential tone, as the man's driver-side window was down.

Robin feigned what she hoped looked like innocence, with a delicate shrug of her shoulders. "Perhaps he has a good memory," she said softly, as they headed onto the main road leading into town.

---

The road was dirt and gravel, for the first half hour, making for a very choppy ride. Robin and Amon, seated behind the cab, swayed gently with the passage of the truck over uneven ground. The sky was still bright, the afternoon sun high above them.

She turned to look at her companion as they rode along, the sun glinting on his calm face, the wind gently teasing his raven-black hair. Wisps of it caught on his lips, and Robin found herself transfixed by the sight, unable to tear her eyes away.

He was beautiful, she thought...even in his taciturn moods.

It was something she had always realized about Amon, even in the beginning, as they had prowled the streets of Japan together in the name of witch hunting. She recalled the childlike crush she had felt when she'd first laid eyes on him, despite his chilly demeanor. _Ironic_, she thought, _having been brought up in a convent to come out into the real world and immediately fixate on such a person._ She felt a slight hint of embarrassment at her whimsical thoughts.

When he finally made eye contact, she averted her eyes hurriedly.

Amon paused before he spoke, watching her, much as she had recently done to him. "I sent an email today to Nagira," he told her, matter-of-factly. He found that he wasn't prepared for her response, even though he had known how fond of his half-brother Robin had become.

Her eyes lit up. "Nagira!" she said, her voice animated, but still only decibels above a whisper. "Did he respond? What did he say?"

Her partner shook his head hurriedly to deflect the onslaught of her questions. "I haven't received a response yet."

Robin's enthusiasm waned. "_Vedo._"

He felt compelled to continue, as to not disappoint her. "I did not tell him where we were...only that we were in Europe and that we were safe."

"I guess that's best." She didn't seem to convey the sentiments through her voice. "Amon..."

"_Si?_" he replied softly. It surprised her how accommodating he was towards using her native language.

"Do you think we'll see them again? Nagira and Miho and Michael, and---"

"You shouldn't concern yourself with that now," he reprimanded, but his words belied a hint of compassion. "It has not yet been a week since we've left. If we see them again, it will not be anytime soon."

She knew this; but still the yearning teenager inside of her drew her on to curiosity. "You must miss them even more than I do, because you have worked with them, and known them, for longer."

He shrugged, looking out at the hillsides.

Robin paused before saying her next words, knowing he would not react well to them. She had come to expect this of him, in the short time that they had been thrown together by circumstance. Nevertheless, she found that she could not resist asking.

"Especially Touko."

He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes for a long cold moment, before turning away again.

She sensed the emotional roadblock moving into place; the fortification of the walls he had constructed to keep her out, and away from his secrets.

_Let me in_, she wanted to whisper to him. As much as a part of her feared the symbolism of what her recent dreams involving him had entailed, she still believed in his self-sworn duty to protect her. Amon would never harm her. She was not afraid of what she would find out about him...inexplicably, his reticence only served to bind her more strongly to him.

She recalled what Jana had said to her of the incident in the village, upon her return to the house: _Be honest with him. Tell him what happened there. He will understand. _

_But don't keep things from him. Don't hide from him._

..._If only he would do the same_, Robin thought to herself.

---

Siena was a small but thriving city. The architecture still had an old-world feel to it, but the buildings were in better shape than the mottled stone villas in Sovana, and modern stores and shopping areas shared the landscape with picturesque and gothic historical landmarks.

The driver shouted to them in Italian from his driver's side window, and Robin nodded and answered him in affirmation.

She turned to Amon. "There is a square, a center of the neighborhoods, called _il Campo_...he will drop us off there."

"Does it have stores where we can buy electronic supplies?" he asked pointedly.

She nodded. "Stores, cafes, restaurants, art exhibits..."

"We are not here to sight-see, Robin." His voice was firm.

Robin pursed her lips, but did not press the issue further.

The truck stopped at a busy midtown section, and Amon and Robin exited from the truck. Amon jumped over the side, his coat and hair fluttering in a flourished leap; but Robin gathered her dark skirts and slid daintily from the back of the flatbed.

They approached the driver's side window. "_Molto grazie_," Robin gushed, and her partner nodded to the driver.

"_Non c'è problema_," he called back. "_A domani_!" He waved and drove off, leaving them in the center of the busy square.

Amon donned his black sunglasses, and remembering hers, Robin followed suit. They walked forward, into the multitude of townspeople.

---

The first stop along the street was at a drugstore, where Amon immediately began sifting through the aisles of displayed batteries. Keeping one eye on Robin, he browsed through the racks, clearing entire hanging displays and dropping the items into a hand-held shopping basket.

Robin pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, her long ginger mane pushed back behind her ears, as she gazed interestedly at postcards, depicting pictures of landmarks in Siena. Of several she looked at, one caught her eye instantly....it was a beautiful gothic white cathedral. The design looked to be more than six or seven hundred years old, at least...Robin turned the postcard over, curiously, and spied the cathedral's building date. _1229_.

She held the postcard up to the drugstore cashier, who had been eyeing her since she and Amon had entered the store and parted ways. "_Scusi...quanto costa?_" she asked softly.

The store manager's beady eyes roved languidly over her chestnut hair, then to her face, then down her neck and over her bare white shoulders. "_Trenta centesimos_," he answered slowly.

She did not notice the wolfish look crossing his dark features. She approached the cash register, still gazing at the picture of the cathedral. Something intangible and elusive nagged at her thoughts. "_Dove sono questa cattedrale?_" she asked him.

He smiled toothily. "_Non è latano_," he replied easily, leaning over the counter to get a better look, his eyes traveling hungrily over her form. "_Perché non mi e tu---_"

Amon slammed the shopping basket, stocked full of batteries, down onto the counter in front of the cashier...harder than necessary.

The store manager's countenance became slightly anxious as he was faced with a pair of narrowed dark gray eyes, like cold steel. He realized then that the dark-haired man in the trench coat had seen him covet the young girl, who was presumably with him.

"We are finished here," Amon said to Robin, his eyes never leaving the cashier's.

---

"But, Amon," Robin was saying softly, as they made their way through the square, "I feel as though that place is familiar to me. I would like to see it."

"You do not even know where it is," he rationalized, carrying the bag full of batteries under his arm. He had decided they would catch a taxi back to Sovana, since it was not likely they would encounter anyone in the city headed back that way. He had no intention of loitering about Siena to look at architecture.

Robin stopped walking as she stared out into the distance, far ahead of her. "But...I do."

Amon stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her. The look in her eyes startled him. "_Doushita?_" he asked, softly.

She pointed in the direction ahead of them. "It's this way." She began to walk, her gait even and calm, and it was apparent he had no choice but to follow.

Three blocks away, hidden by the tall structure of _il Campo_, was the white cathedral. The outside of it was gorgeous, with statues and mosaics in gold and marble. Robin approached it, her steps quickening, but Amon reached out to restrain her arm.

"Robin," he warned. "You don't know who could be in there. The Church is the sanctuary of SOLOMON....it's unwise to risk yourself."

"Then come with me," she asked, turning her green eyes on him, pleading.

He hesitated, for a long moment, before bowing his dark head and following in her steps. They entered the dark lobby of the cathedral.

In the darkened interior, lit with flickering candles, they could make out scenes, biblical and mythological, depicted on the walls and on the marble floors. They walked silently in among the wooden pews, empty save for a few devoted followers, their heads bowed as they sat deep in prayer.

Amon stopped as Robin continued on, towards the pulpit. She looked back at him briefly, and saw his nod, indicating where he would wait while she took her time as needed.

She approached the pulpit slowly, and as she did she could see the beautiful embellishments carved into the wood---pictures depicting the life of Jesus Christ. She knelt before it, making the sign of the cross, and folding her hands underneath her chin, bowed to pray.

Amon looked discreetly over at each worshipper sitting in the pews, from where he stood near the back of the cathedral. He eyed them carefully, watching for any sudden moves, lest they be SOLOMON agents waiting for the chance to assassinate her out in the open. The mere fact that she was vulnerable like this made him uneasy.

Robin breathed deeply and slowly, and let her thoughts come to her mind, relaxed. _Come, Holy Spirit...fill my heart. I give You my will...I seek not consolations from You, I desire only to serve and love You. Give me guidance._

Something glinted through an open window at the far end of the room, facing an expanse of green outside. Despite the fact that her eyes were nearly closed, it was almost blinding. She looked up from where she knelt by the altar.

Outside, in back of the cathedral, there was what looked to be a small statue, some sort of monument of dedication. A silver cross was glinting in the rays of sunlight, creating the gleam that had roused her from her meditation.

Robin stood, slowly, infinitely curious. She went towards the door at the end of the worship area, past the pulpit.

Amon saw her moving out of the corner of his eye---he'd been watching the bystanders in the pews. He began to follow her, mentally cursing her curiosity.

She found the door adjacent to the open window to be unlocked, and upon passing through it, found herself outside in what appeared to be a garden of sorts, bare of any other statues or artifacts other than the one that had attracted her attention. It sat in a humble corner of the garden, partially shaded by the cathedral's massive tower. Robin approached the silver cross, and bent down next to it to look at the inscription.

_1328  
In affetuosa memoria  
di Aradia  
La Bella Pellegrina_

Amon had caught up to her. "Oi....Robin!" he hissed lowly, in a scolding tone. "Don't run off when I'm not---" He looked at her face as she gazed at the inscription, his words trailing off. "_Doushita?_"

She looked up at him, her emerald eyes wide with confusion and what he thought to be a hint of sorrow. A chill traveled up his spine with lightning quickness as he realized he knew what she was about to say.

"Amon," she said slowly, "I have seen this inscription before."

---

"How is that possible?" Amon was asking as they were clear of the cathedral, headed back to the street near _il Campo_ to procure a taxi ride. "You have never been to this region of Italy before."

"I don't know," she responded softly, pulling the cashmere shawl higher around her shoulders. It was only late afternoon, approaching dusk, but already the air was beginning to be cooler. She absently wished she had worn her long-sleeved smock, which would have provided her with more warmth.

Amon momentarily looked as though he was conflicted, his dark brow furrowed in thought. Wordlessly, he shrugged off his trench coat, and draped it over her shoulders, securing it with his hands so it would not fall off.

Robin looked up at him, surprised, with quiet gratitude shining in her eyes.

They hailed a taxi soon after.

---

Dusk fell across the land of Siena as they traveled out by taxi, the sun settling gently over rolling hills blanketed by emerald-green vineyards.

Amon broke the silence between them. "You still believe in God," he observed quietly. His voice had a curious tone.

Robin was not entirely surprised by the comment; even so, it was unlike him to take any sort of interest in her spirituality. It had never been talked about between them.

"_Si_," she responded, her voice soft, as she watched the shadows beginning to form across the open valley. The driver had turned his headlights on.

"How." Robin turned to look at him, questioning. He continued. "How can you believe in Him...knowing what you are? Knowing that His followers have cursed your existence?"

"He has not cursed my existence." Her voice was calm, serene.

"How do you know that?" he persisted. It was almost as though her tranquility vexed him, somehow.

She felt the sting underlying his words, and she looked at him, her expression wondering. "You said yourself that God does not abandon anyone." She held his eyes in the growing darkness of the taxi. "Do you not believe your own words?"

"I am asking you why _you_ believe it."

Robin looked away again, out the window into the darkness. She could not explain to him the reason, when she was not sure why she herself believed. "I do not want to answer."

"Why?" The edge in his voice was unmistakable. It was his thinly veiled threatening tone. "Is there something else that you are hiding from me, as always, Robin?" Inwardly, he grimaced---he could not understand why these words were coming from his mouth.

She turned to face him again, and this time he could see the undisguised hurt evident in her eyes, and in the play of her face.

"I have kept _nothing_ from you," she whispered, anguished, as she held his gaze. "I have told you everything you wished to know until now. It is _you_, Amon," she said, her voice unwavering, "who has kept _everything_ from me."

His eyes narrowed. "_Nani?!_" he whispered fiercely.

"You won't talk about Touko...even though I know for a fact that you were very close to her." Robin continued to hold his gaze, even as she saw his dark eyes widening, partly in fury, partly in fear. "You won't tell me about how you came to work for Zaizen, a man who hates Witches so deeply that he decided they weren't even fit to exist as Hunters. You won't answer my questions about your family...you won't even talk about what happened in Factory, or how we escaped...to this day I don't remember how---"

"_Nomide!_" he hissed, and he was suddenly silent, staring out the opposite window.

Robin knew she had angered him. She bowed her head and said nothing else, for the duration of the taxi ride.

When they arrived in Sovana, they exited the taxi without speaking, and walked back to Jana's home, maintaining an uncomfortable distance from one another.

Robin looked at his retreating form ahead of her, his stride quick, his posture rigid. She could smell his scent on the jacket that he had given her, still around her shoulders as she followed behind him towards the house.

He did not look back.

---

Jana looked confused as the two returned, their faces dark and drawn, from their trip into the city. Amon came into the house and went directly into his bedroom, closing the door. Robin entered through the front door moments later, her hands laced together and her head bowed, his jacket still over her shoulders.

Jana sighed. _Poco gli Dei..._ she had hoped the trip would have brought them closer, been productive....instead it seemed as though the two of them were driving each other away.

She led Robin gently into the house, where she proceeded to her own bedroom, as Jana closed the door and looked on sadly after her.

Upon entrance into her room, she lay down on the bed face-first, burying her face in her arms...which were soon wet with her silent tears.

_Why am I crying?_

_---_

It must have been hours later, she realized, when she awoke. The moon, on its last night of fullness, hung with a golden hue low in the dark sky.

Robin wiped the moisture from her face, sitting up. She should have helped Jana to prepare dinner...surely it was too late now. She didn't hear any noise in the house...was everyone asleep?

She opened her door to the hallway to see Amon's door ajar. Curiosity got the better of her, and she went to look into his room. He was nowhere in sight.

She went into the kitchen, still clutching the shawl around her shoulders at the chill in the house. This evening had been colder than the others...strange for spring, heading into summer.

Jana was up, reading by candlelight. She looked up as Robin entered the room, and her eyes softened. "_Bambina..._ I had thought you were asleep for the night."

"_Scusi..._" Robin whispered softly. "I did not mean to oversleep and miss helping you with dinner."

Jana shook her head gently. "I did not make it. There is plenty of cheese, and bread, and wine...enough to make an old woman like me full." She bestowed a soft smile on her granddaughter, and then her eyes beckoned to the dark hallway. "He did not eat, either."

"_Dove lui?_" Robin asked, hopefully.

Jana's smile stayed fast on her lips. _She sees that it's not too late._ "He went out to the ocean...not far from here. Is maybe five-ten minute walk." She feigned surprise as Robin's eyes widened, and she turned on her heel to leave.

"I'm going."

"_Bambina_...take a jacket...it's very cold...." she called after her, and upon hearing the door open and close, smiled again, looking down at her book.

---

It was dark as she half-walked, half-ran along the dirt and gravel path that led to the coast; but the swollen moon in the sky lit everything with its light, as though it were a beacon, guiding her to him.

_Amon._ She hurried, running through fields of grass, hoping that he was just beyond the trees that lined the water. She could hear the swelling and ebbing of the tide as she drew nearer, the pull of the water at the edge of land. She shivered briefly in the cold, although she was wearing her trench coat that she had grabbed on her way out...Amon was without. He was probably freezing in the cold night air.

She ran ahead, past the trees, until she was in plain view overlooking the water. Several feet below, waves broke themselves upon rocks embedded in the shore.

She sensed him before she saw him, and turned.

He was looking at her, not even bothering to disguise the shock from his expression. "_Robin_," he whispered, unbelieving. _How had she found him?_

She started to run towards him, but stopped when she drew near, allowing him his space.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked, his features stern, but still with the glimmer of disbelief that had appeared at seeing her before him.

Robin panted from her exertion. "Jana told me."

"Jana?" he asked, frowning. "But I didn't---"

"Amon, I have my answer to your question," she breathed, stepping closer towards him.

Although he did not now want to hear the answer to the question that had sparked their argument, he waited.

"I did not realize the answer until just now," she said, still out of breath, her eyes shining at him in the moonlight. "I realized it as I ran here.

"I believe that God has not abandoned me---that He _will not_ abandon me," she said, moving closer to him step by step, "because of you."

He stood motionless, as though he felt rooted to the earth. Her words were tearing at his wall, his fortress of self-preservation, and he felt it begin to crumble like soft limestone all around him.

"Because," she continued, in her gentle tone, "if just one human being, a person like you, Amon, can believe in me, a Witch...if you can have enough faith in me not to abandon me, as you were told to do, as you had so many opportunities to do..." She paused as her breath wavered.

"Then I know that God can have that faith in me as well."

She watched as rampant emotions flitted across his face, partially hidden, but enough light by the moon for her to see it. They gazed at one another, as though finally seeing each other up close after having stared across an endless abyss.

Finally, after long moments, both of them shivering in the night air, Amon spoke.

"I was seven years old," he said softly, looking into her eyes, "when my mother was taken from me."

Robin's eyes widened.

"She was a Witch." Only his eyes betrayed his grief as he spoke. "She had awakened as a Witch to be with my father, and she turned her powers on the SOLOMON agents who had entered our home...but in the end I became the property of STN-J, regardless of her actions."

He bowed his head. "She was all that I had...and when I saw the tremendous power that she had gained, saw what she did to those men...I realized I could no longer reach her. She had changed; she had become someone I didn't recognize."

Robin spoke up, despite her incredulity. "She was trying to protect you---"

"I was afraid," he said, even softer, "afraid that she had become corrupted by her own powers. And I was angry at her---I still am---for displaying that power....for making me afraid."

Robin nodded slowly. She finally understood. "So you went to work for Zaizen as a Witch Hunter."

"The son went to work for the organization that had murdered his parents," he said, bitterly.

Robin gasped. _**Both** of his parents had been Witches?_ Suddenly something clicked, something that had been nagging at the recesses of her mind ever since she had started at STN-J.

"Amon," she spoke, realization dawning in her eyes, "Juliano knew of your background."

Surprised didn't begin to describe Amon's expression. "_Nani?!_" Why would anyone other than Zaizen and STN-J know about his heritage?

She nodded. "When I was assigned as STN-J's replacement so many months ago, he told me to observe you, to see if your Craft had awoken yet." She recalled the email she had sent surreptitiously to Juliano after having met Amon for the first time..._As expected, the Seed of Craft lies dormant within this blood. Futility..._ She, in her earlier naiveté, had assumed all Witch Hunters possessed powers of the Craft....but were not Witches themselves.

"He had been monitoring you---perhaps through Zaizen, because they knew each other---and was anticipating that you would display powers of the Craft, even though he was doubtful. I was told to observe you closely and report back to him whether or not you displayed such powers." Something else was unsettling...the idea that Juliano had at one time been a cohort of Zaizen's....

"Robin, I was given access to everything at SOLOMON and STN-J," Amon reasoned. "I was given free reign as a Hunter, was given the blueprint of every facility under SOLOMON operation..." He paused. "That was how I knew how to escape from Factory."

"Factory?"

"There was an underground tunnel, much like the layout at STN-J," he explained quickly. He decided to skip the details of his wound and his mysterious thirty-foot jump. "What I'm saying is, Robin....if they knew I was going to become a Witch, and display powers of the Craft...why did they grant me so much access to everything?"

She shivered again in the cold air. "I don't know..." Both of them seemed overwhelmed by the evidence that had just been presented to them. It was a lot to grasp....

"But, Amon," she reasoned, "Toudou said in his research that because of a genetic mutation from a Witch thousands of years ago, that Witches could not pass their genes directly on to their children anymore." She looked at him questioningly. "If that were true, you would never become a Witch, even if both of your parents were Witches. So why would they look for a sign of your Craft?"

"If what Toudou said was true," he argued, "that would also negate Maria's existence."

"So, then, what is the truth?" Robin whispered.

They were both silent for a long moment, realizing that they had more to find out than they had ever thought possible. It seemed as though the puzzle was larger, more encompassing, than either of them had thought.

Robin shivered again in the cold air. "Amon," she said softly, breathing his name again. He had never before realized how she said it...speaking his name as though it were a gentle caress.

"We should go back...you haven't eaten yet, and there is fruit, and cheese, and...wine..."

_Definitely going to skip the wine,_ his conscience dictated.

She extended her bare hand, reaching out to him, beckoning him as he stood on the cliff overlooking the rocks and the waves.

"Amon, I won't keep anything from you, ever again." She looked steadily into his eyes with that unwavering, unfaltering green gaze. "I promise."

He looked down at her hand, soft and inviting, and accepting. So accepting.

_She had instantly accepted the fact that he had Witches' blood.... _

_Did some hidden part of her already know?_

He decided that enough questions had been asked this night. He stepped forward, and took her hand in his own.

"Neither will I." He told himself he would tell her, about the wound and the jump...when he was ready to.

Gently she led him by the hand, back to the home that was her grandmother's hearth.

---

As he lay in bed, beneath covers, he let his mind drift over the facts, again and again.

It didn't make sense. Juliano knew...they had anticipated his Seed awakening. All along, it was what he had feared, the emergence of his own powers...but according to Toudou, it was an impossibility.

A rumbled purr interrupted his thoughts. The female cat, whom Jana had named Bast, had jumped onto his bed. She approached his form and sat on her haunches near him, blinking at him slowly. He could see her eyes gleaming at him in the dark.

Cautiously he held his hand out to her...and she jumped, meeting him halfway, to connect with it. He felt his hand glide over her smooth head, past her velvet ears, and down her soft neck.

Still stroking her fur gently, he closed his eyes as the cat curled up next to him, lulled by the gentle sounds coming from her throat. His last thought was that of tired amazement...that sleep didn't elude him after all on this night.

* * *

Next chapter:

Bloodline....The Witches' Gospel....A healing touch. Chapter 6.

---

Whew! This seemed to take forever, but I enjoyed writing it. I just love trying to characterize Amon; he's a walking contradiction throughout the entire series, and I'm trying to keep true to that...i.e., he believes he should be able to look upon Robin when she's sleeping, naked and vulnerable---but when they're out in public and she shows too much shoulder, and someone else notices, he gets concerned. snickers

Thanks for reading, and hopefully I'll have Chapter 6 up soon!

Italian/Japanese:

Non lo so: I don't know  
Pelosa intrusa: Furry interloper  
Che cos'è quello: What is that?  
non posso: I cannot

Ikimashou: (Japanese) Let's go  
Fare attenzione: Be careful  
Voi aver bisogno di giro?: Do you need a ride?  
Ti andare in città?: Are you going to the city?  
Non c'è problema: No problem  
A domani: See you tomorrow  
Quanto costa: How much for this?  
Trenta centesimos: thirty cents  
Dove sono questa cattedrale?: Where is this cathedral?  
Non è latano: Not far  
Perché non mi e tu: why don't you and I...  
Doushita: (Japanese) what is it?  
In affetuoso memoria di Aradia: In loving memory of Aradia  
Nani: (Japanese) what  
Nomide: (Japanese) that's more than enough  
Poco gli Dei: by the Gods  
Dove lui: where is he


	7. Chapter 6: Touch

A/N : Well, here it is: Chapter 6! Thanks to everyone who has been kind enough to review so far, and helped to encourage me to continue writing this story. It's a labor, that's for sure---but I'm loving every minute of it! ^^

Thanks again you guys, and keep reading! (more detailed Author's Note at end)

***************************************

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 6: Touch **

.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since their refuge had begun in Sovana.

Robin walked underneath the bright Tuscan sun, calming in its warmth; and faintly smiled to herself. She had come to the realization, walking through the village during the morning, that both she and Amon were finally beginning to adjust to their new lives in Italy. They had even settled into somewhat of a predictable, if not comfortable, routine. 

There was breakfast every morning---always prepared, unquestioningly, by Jana, who encouraged morning discussions over coffee---followed by long walks into the _via de Mezzo_ in the late morning and early afternoon. Most days, Amon accompanied her, and they would spend the afternoon browsing among the villagers, who were more than happy to welcome them. On other days she went alone, Amon choosing to remain behind at the farmhouse, monitoring news in cyberspace and allowing her to continue to bond with the Sovanan townsfolk on her own comfort level. 

Often during the week, Robin helped her grandmother with tending to the large garden behind the farmhouse, where she had discovered that Jana nurtured a vast repertoire of vegetables and roots. The two women would spend hours amidst the crops, digging and pruning, talking softly the entire time. Jana would spin stories of her mother, Maria, from the early days of her youth, as well as stories of Juliano; and Robin would listen, smiling and nodding at her grandmother's happy reminisces. The memories were fond ones, and Robin felt grateful that Jana had chosen to share them with her.

In the late afternoons, if they had not spent their mornings together, Amon would seek her out, or she would seek him, and they would take walks together. Sometimes they would head back into the village to shop for items or food that they needed for dinner, but more often than not there was no purpose, other than to simply be in one another's company. 

The change that she now saw in Amon---after their argument and their oceanside confessions weeks ago---was strangely comforting to her. No longer did she feel as though she burdened him with her presence, as an unruly and misbehaving charge would to a warden; instead it seemed as though he sought the quiet pleasure of her company, just as she did his. She realized that she had now in her possession the knowledge of his deepest and darkest secrets, which he had been up until recently unwilling to share with her...that of his heritage, and the fear of the potential awakening of his Seed. She treasured those kernels of understanding, cradled them and tucked them away in her mind as evidence of his trust in her, his belief in her. He would not have told her otherwise.

They had made two more trips into Siena for supplies, but not during either trip had Amon allowed her to seek out the white cathedral again, to look again at the inscription on the mysterious silver cross that had been strangely familiar to her. He had insisted it was not safe to explore such a place sacred to SOLOMON, and Robin reluctantly acquiesced to his wishes, seeing the dread that had crept into his dark gray eyes each time she mentioned the church.

It was almost as if he was imperceptibly aware of something which she was not....

Despite his caution in that regard, he had not reacted as she had feared when she confessed to what occurred in the village weeks ago---the townspeople having witnessed her Craft. He had nodded his head, his eyes lowered, when she'd told him. He seemed to have begun to accept the fact that there would be people who knew about her powers, regardless of where they were.

She looked up now as she saw him approach her from across the square of vendors, the long ends of his black trench coat fluttering gently in the breeze around him like lingering shadows, his eyes dark and unreadable. In one of his hands she spied a small dark bag, which he quickly concealed in a side pocket of his coat.

She lifted her delicate eyebrows at him in interest. "_Che cos'è quello?_" she asked, her hands laced together in front of her.

"_Niente_," he answered coolly, his expression unchanging. She marveled again at his intuitive grasp of her language, before her curiosity returned.

"I saw a bag in your hand," she protested softly, a light that he thought resembled amusement dancing in her green eyes. "What is it?"

"It's not important," he asserted, his eyes beginning to reveal something akin to a glare, and she backed down, although no less curious.

"If you had wanted to buy more fruit, you should have just mentioned it," she said, her lips curling in a gentle smirk. "We could have just gone back to Gennaro's stand." She thought back fondly on the kindhearted vendor who had insisted weeks ago that she accept an entire bag of fruit, as a gift on his behalf, free of charge. They now bought fruit from him during every visit to the village, and he welcomed both of them with pride and gratitude each time.

Amon's voice was lightly scolding as he fell into step beside her, ducking his head. "So that you could take advantage of his generosity again? You're going to put the man out of business, Robin."

She opened her mouth in protest, only to close it again with a faint smile as she realized, as evident by the look in his eyes, that he was teasing her. This, too, was a relatively new development.

He went on, as they walked side by side through the street. "I received another message from Nagira," he said. He had been in constant contact with his half-brother through email for the last couple of weeks, since Nagira had responded to his first message.

"Did he answer my question about STN-J?" she asked softly, looking up at him as they walked.

"No recent developments since the last Hunter returned to SOLOMON," he informed her, his voice lowering as he turned his head to glance in her direction, discreetly catching the downcast look of her eyes at hearing the news.

"I told you, the Hunter didn't appear to be looking for you," he reminded her softly, looking forward again.

"_Si, lo so._" Her face still seemed troubled somehow, and a part of him sought to wipe away her doubt.

They walked in silence for a moment before Amon spoke again. "We know we can rely on Nagira's contacts from the Walled City with confidence...they've provided us with solid information since the beginning." He bowed his head again as he walked. "It doesn't appear that anyone knows of our---" He had begun to say more, when they were suddenly interrupted by a woman running up to them. 

It seemed to Amon that he and Robin were rarely left alone anymore to browse the streets at their leisure during their village strolls---the villagers were constantly bombarding Robin with gifts, requests for blessings, and other trivial things that he thought were little more than nonsense, but that she seemed to take in calm stride. Their reactions to a professed Witch puzzled him. Most of them had personally witnessed a display of Robin's power....why weren't they afraid of her? Perhaps malevolent Witches who abused their powers, as some of the ones he'd Hunted in Japan, were not as common as he'd thought in Europe.

"_Scusi, Pellegrina,_" the woman beseeched, her eyes pleading as she stepped before them. Her eyes flicked to Amon, standing off to the side, and she gave him a respectful nod before directing her attention back to the chestnut-haired witch. "_Per favore_, you must come with me, to see _mi figlia_."

"_Perché?_" Robin asked, "What is wrong?"

"She is very sick," the woman whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke. "She will not eat, not speak, not walk....she is feverish, and all she do for past days is lie in bed...she is only seven years old, Pellegrina..." Her voice trailed off as she looked at the visitors imploringly. "_Per favore_...you must help her."

Robin had been asked often enough by the villagers in the last few weeks to do small favors during previous visits, such as blessing someone's harvest, or kissing their child....but this had crossed the line. Amon stepped forward, his expression neutral, as if he meant to shield Robin from the crazed village woman. "Robin is not a healer," he started to explain, the tone of his voice stern; but a gentle hand on the sleeve of his coat stopped him.

"_Amon_," Robin said, softly, and he slowly turned to look at her, his disciplining words cut short by the breathy whisper of his name. He still had not been able to figure out how his name on her lips seemed at the same time to both immobilize him and strengthen him.

There was a warm light in her green eyes, dawning as though she were just coming to a realization....and as she looked at him, he could almost hear her soothing words. _It's all right._

Robin faced the woman standing before her.

"I don't know if I can do anything to help," she began modestly, "but I would like to try. _Prenda mi a lei_," she said with gentleness. The woman's eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and she nodded, turning to lead the way to her home.

Robin looked once more at Amon, who watched as she turned to follow the woman further into the village. After a moment of hesitation, he fell into step behind her.

***

They entered into the woman's modest home on the outskirts of the village, and the woman immediately led them to the girl's room. 

She opened the door to reveal a red-faced young girl on a bed, her eyes closed, and her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow underneath her head. Robin entered the room behind the girl's mother, reluctantly followed by Amon. 

Robin approached the bed slowly, kneeling next to it as she looked upon the girl lying against the pillows. The child looked asleep, although her breathing seemed labored, and her brow was puckered in pain. Robin reached out and took the girl's warm hand, lying on the blanket, in her own.

"_Come la chiami?_" she asked the mother, who was hovering behind her, watching anxiously.

"Lucia," the mother whispered. 

Amon watched impassively from the other side of the room. He didn't understand what Robin intended to do for the girl, if there was anything that could be done at all. 

Robin stroked the girl's hand in hers gently, feeling the heat from the child's fever emanating into her own skin. She put a hand up to Lucia's overheated forehead, nearly shrinking back from the extreme warmth. 

There was no town doctor to come to the girl's aid...it was possible the nearest one was in the town of Siena, which being miles away, was not an option for the mother and sick child to attempt to travel to. 

She dimly recalled, from having spent time assisting with the care of patients years ago in the convent's infirmary, that a fever that did not break could be deadly, especially to the young or old. 

_To break the fever, the child needs to keep warm. It is the only way the body can maintain a high enough temperature to kill what it needs to and recover,_ she thought.

She looked around the room, observing the shabby blanket covering the girl's body, the threadbare dress she was clothed in, the chill of the room despite the windows being closed and curtains drawn.

She turned back to Lucia, covering the girl's hand with both of hers, and closed her own eyes. She envisioned conjuring not fire, but its heat and warmth.

"Lucia," she whispered, focusing her thoughts on the young girl.

The girl's mother gasped as the room became distinctly warmer, and she watched in amazement as Robin's form, kneeling by the bed, began to take on a warm glow in the dim light of the room.

"_Madre di Dio_," she whispered in the stillness.

Amon felt the skin on the back of his neck prickling. He too had felt the temperature in the room increase suddenly by several degrees, and he watched Robin, his eyes glued to her in fascination.

Robin saw her Craft emerging from behind closed eyelids, visualizing flames dancing in her mind's eye...and she lifted one of her hands, placing it on Lucia's chest.

The blonde girl winced at the touch, the heat rousing her from her slumber, and she began to whimper. Beads of sweat rolled down her small face. 

"Lucia," the mother whispered nervously, seeing her child's discomfort, and moved towards the bed. Amon stopped her with a firm hand on her arm.

"_Aspetta_," he told her quietly, and the woman acquiesced.

The child's breathing became heavier and more labored for several moments, until finally she exhaled softly, her body having lost its tension and her brow relaxed. Robin lifted her hand gently away from the girl's chest. Her own skin had already begun to cool, and she had felt the girl's temperature begin to lower underneath her fingers.

"Lucia?" the mother asked, anxiously.

The girl did not stir. Robin stood slowly from her position at the child's bed, and turned towards the mother. "She is sleeping," she said quietly. 

"_Che é bene?_" the woman asked, and as Robin nodded, she exhaled in relief.

"Keep her warm," Robin said softly, as to not awaken the sleeping girl. "I will return later this evening to check on her."

The woman's eyes filled slowly with tears, and she grasped Robin's hands in her own, as Amon watched curiously. "_Molto grazie,_" she whispered.

The girl's mother stayed by her daughter's bedside, her hands clasped together as if in prayer, as Robin and Amon made their way out of the room.

Once out of earshot, Amon turned to her. He could not believe what he had just seen. "Robin...how did you know what to do for the girl's fever?" he asked, his voice not without a hint of suspicion. He wondered idly if she had such a power all along.

Robin shook her head, her eyes downcast as they walked back to the _via de Mezzo_. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I remembered from my days in the monastery that children with fevers needed to be kept warm in order for the body to recover. I gave her warmth...it seemed to be the only way to help her."

"I had no idea your Craft could be used like that," Amon admitted softly, realizing she had not kept anything from him. 

Inwardly he berated himself. _Hypocrite. You are still worried about what secrets she keeps from you...when you have not laid all yours bare for her to see._

She turned to him again, something akin to wonderment mixed with hope bubbling in her eyes. "Neither did I."

***

They returned to the farmhouse, still talking softly about what had happened. 

Jana met them at the door. She observed their expressions, the furtiveness with which they stole glances at one another, the body language between them.

She smiled mysteriously. 

"_Bentornata_," she said jovially. "I just prepare lunch, come in and have a bite." She waved them in, encouraging Amon to shed his ever-present dark coat.

"We're not---" Amon began, but the quick-witted older woman cut him off.

"Is always the same story---I know, you're not hungry." She nodded impatiently and gave Amon an affable smile. "You should know by now, _I don't care_ if you hungry or not. Sit and eat." She shooed him towards the kitchen, and Robin had to stifle her grin at her grandmother's handling of her reticent partner. Jana seemed to have a knack for knowing how to push his buttons without angering him. In a strange way, she reminded Robin of Nagira and his dry humor...perhaps Amon felt the same, she thought, as she watched him scowl halfheartedly and head into the kitchen.

They sat down to eat at the table, where Jana had prepared a light lunch of _insalata caprese_; large slices of feathery-soft cow's milk mozzarella, with leaves of fresh basil and oregano, probably picked from Jana's own herb garden; and thick slices of red ripe tomatoes, over which was drizzled olive oil and basalmic vinegar. Bread and white wine rounded out the meal. 

They ate leisurely, their meal punctuated by casual conversation, until Jana mentioned their lapses in visits to Siena. She looked at Amon in surprise, as his brow clouded at the mention of the city.

"Are you not going to go back?" she asked him, curiously.

Amon folded his arms across his chest, sitting back slightly in his chair. Robin put her fork down next to her plate, turning her eyes towards her companion seated beside her. 

Jana looked from one to the other, trying to discern their expressions.

"It doesn't seem as though it is wise to move about freely there," Amon reluctantly offered, his face drawn with concern, looking straight ahead and not at the young chestnut-haired witch next to him. "It is a larger town, and there are many places that might be associated with SOLOMON."

"Even so, I would like to see the cathedral again," Robin said softly, her gazed fixed on him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, as the only response to her comment. She felt a stab of regret as she realized the discussion was causing him discomfort.

"_Cattedrale?_" Jana asked with interest, and Robin quickly explained their find near _il Campo_.

"Nonna," she asked thoughtfully after a few moments, "who is Aradia?"

"Aradia," Jana repeated, a flash suddenly appearing in her dark green eyes, and she leaned forward towards her granddaughter. "Where did you hear that name, _bambina?_"

"I read it on an inscription near the cathedral," she answered. "It was carved into a small silver cross planted underneath a tower next to the church."

Jana's eyes became faraway and distant, her smile contemplative. "I have not heard that name spoken...in many, many years," she whispered softly. Robin and Amon watched her with interest as she slowly rose from the table, returning after a few moments with an old, worn-looking hardcover book, which she had taken from a shelf in another room. 

"This a book passed down in _mi famiglia_ from generation to generation," she said gently, placing it down on the table in front of her as she returned to her seat. She opened the cover, turning the worn pages gently as she thumbed through it. She stopped at a particular chapter, her eyes softening.

"_La Pellegrina della Casa al Vento_," she said softly, reading from the text. 

Robin stiffened slightly at her grandmother's words.

_Pellegrina._

"It has been translated to English some time ago...so I will read you the story," Jana said, holding the book in front of her as she leaned back in her chair. Robin leaned forward, intrigued; Amon looked as though he were uncomfortable at the thought of having to listen to a long story that was likely an Italian myth, but nevertheless he stayed seated, fixed in his chair as though by curiosity.

Jana began to read.

"There is a peasant's house at the beginning of the hill, or ascent leading to Volterra, and it is called _la Casa al Vento_, or the House of the Wind. Near it there once stood a small place, wherein dwelt a married couple, a wealthy merchant and his second wife who had but one child, a daughter, whom they adored. The merchant's wife had many miscarriages. Being a pious woman, she purchased numerous masses said on her behalf that she might have a child. She vowed in her heart that any child born living would grow up to be a priest or a nun.

"Supposedly after one night of much fasting and prayer, the wife was suddenly ravenous, and she gathered and ate several walnuts from a tree in Benevento. Shortly thereafter, the wife discovered that she was pregnant.

"She gave birth at the full moon to a beautiful baby girl, whom they named Arabella.

"Though her mother adored the little girl, her only thought was one day Arabella should become a nun, a dedicated bride of Christ. Yet one day, while looking from her window, young Arabella spied a nest full of baby birds, singing in the vines and among the trees all so merrily. She said to her mother that she should like to some day have a family of little birds of her own, singing round her in a cheerful nest. 

"Her mother firmly said 'No!' and explained that she was promised to be a bride of Christ, and that there was no higher calling.

"The little girl stamped her foot and declared she had made no such promise, at which point the mother was so angry that she struck her.

"Arabella blinked back tears and said boldly, to the further enragement of her mother, that on no account would she ever become a nun. She attempted to appeal to her father; the merchant, however, had already paid two handsome dowries for his two daughters from the previous marriage, and he had no desire to pay for a third. He told Arabella that she should be content with the life of a nun if that was indeed what her mother desired.

"Arabella did not like what her father had said, and she declared to both parents haughtily that she hoped to be married like the others, dowry or none. The merchant told her she should mind her tongue lest she were to be locked in her room, to which Arabella replied, 'Whether you lock me up or beat me, I will still find some way to escape.'

"The merchant's wife was full of fear at her daughter's disobedience; she knew the spirit of her child, and feared force might eventually push her precious maiden into the arms of some rake, ruining the girl and causing scandal. Turning it over, she thought of an elderly kinswoman, an aunt who was famous for her intelligence, learning, and power of persuasion; and she thought, "This will be just the person to induce my daughter to become pious, and fill her head with devotion and make a nun of her." So she sent for the kinswoman, who was appointed to be Arabella's governess.

"However, the lady was not in fact Catholic at all.

"It came to pass that one night, when the moon was full and round, Arabella thought she heard her governess's voice speaking or singing softly to someone. By the open window, Arabella spied the woman kneeling in the moonlight, apparently praying, but not a familiar Latin prayer of the Church."

Robin's eyes widened with sudden realization.

"When confronted by Arabella, the governess explained: 'I, like thee, was instructed to worship an invisible god. But an old woman in whose wisdom I had great trust said, 'Why worship a deity whom you cannot see, when there is the Moon in all her splendor visible? Invoke _Diana_, goddess of the Moon, and she will grant your prayers.' This shalt thou do,' the governess told her. Arabella was taught to learn many charms and conjurations of the worship of Diana, the last of which was one to bring admirable suitors. Arabella invoked the Moon, requesting young men of stations suitable to her father.

"The mother, who was far more bent on gratifying vindictiveness and cruel vanity than on her daughter's happiness, was infuriated at the parade of men showing an interest in her virgin child; and declared that a nun she shall be, or die. The young lady was shut up in a cell in a tower, with only a cold, stone floor to sleep on. 

"Arabella prayed with tears to the full moon for deliverance, and a great storm came up. During the storm, Arabella escaped, for the house shook with wind and the door to her chamber opened. Some say Diana threw a spear of lightning at the tower; others say a lamp fell over, setting the tapestry aflame. A large portion of the tower was burned due to the fire, and the merchant and his wife thought Arabella had perished in the flames. They mourned her death.

"Arabella hurried away through the night, into the safety of the woods, where she heard the voice of Diana speak to her among the trees.

" 'You are a child of the moon, having been born when it was round and full. It is true indeed that you are a spirit, but you were born to be yet again a mortal,' Diana said to her. 'You must go to earth and become a teacher to women and men who seek to learn the religion of the old times.'

"The maiden said, 'As my mother is Diana, I am Aradia.'

"She sought out the poor and oppressed who lived among the groves and the woods; some who had been slaves, peasants and poor folk whom had been ill-treated and wretched, cursed by the Church and society. She heard the plight of these people, and from those who had kept to the old ways, she learned further healing crafts and enchantments than she already knew. She came to know the good women of Diana who believed in the King and Queen of the fairies; a beautiful lady as white as the Moon, and a young man red as the Sun. She heard the stories of kneeling before Fata Diana, in hope of being granted wealth, beauty, and young men to make love with."

Amon shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat. Jana pretended not to notice and continued reading:

"Aradia had such a passion for witchcraft, and became so powerful therein, that her greatness could no longer be hidden. The band she had traveled with was scattered by soldiers of the nobility one day as Aradia gathered herbs before dawn. She then obtained a pilgrim's dress, that she might hide out in the open as a pious pilgrim, wandering between Christian shrines...but in truth she sought the old places of power, some of which the Church had built upon."

Again Robin's heart lurched at the words. _Pious pilgrim...wandering between Christian shrines....sought the old places of power...._

_Why does it feel as though I have felt this, lived this, before?_

"She traveled far and wide. When she slept in people's homes, she would give them charms or perform healings, speaking of Diana as La Matrona, Regina della stelle, Donna Sophia, or Regina Fata.

"But some she taught, in secret.

"To those who were feign to learn the truth of sorcery, she taught its secrets: to bless and to curse, to make a good vintage, to cure diseases, to cool a fever---"

Amon looked quickly at the chestnut-haired witch next to him, an understanding suddenly dawning in his surprised gray eyes. Robin remained focused on Jana, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"---to stop blood, to know the secrets of herbs, to converse with spirits, to divine with cards and to call tempests with lightning and wind. Aradia had been taught to work all witchcraft...how to destroy men of evil." She looked up at her granddaughter and her companion briefly, knowingly.

"She taught her people, 'When I have departed from you, when the moon is full, you shall assemble in the forest together, to adore the potent spirit of your queen, my mother, Great Diana.' She taught them to bake cakes for the moon, made of meal, wine, salt and honey, in the shapes of the crescent moon. 

"To those with a willingness to learn the art of witchcraft, she taught under the moon of Diana. From her lips came the words of her Mother: 'You shall be the first of witches---first among witches in all the world. You shall bind the oppressor's soul with power. You shall teach the art of poisoning to poison those great lords feasting in their palaces while their serfs starve. Where a greedy peasant is rich at the expense of his neighbor's misfortune, teach to the witches, your pupils, how to ruin his harvest with tempest, thunderbolts, lightning, and wind. If a priest shall do you injury, you will return harm thrice, in my name, the name of Diana, Queen of all the Witches.'

"As the story around the daughter of the goddess grew, among peasantfolk, she became known as _La Bella Pellegrina_, the beautiful pilgrim; so renowned for her beauty, and wisdom, and healing arts. Some said she was an angel or saint. To have La Bella Pellegrina abide in your home was a blessing, for it was known folk had sometimes entertained angels unaware."

_Pellegrina,_ Robin realized. _The people of Sovana believe I am her._

"Eventually tales of La Bella Pellegrina reached the ears of the merchant's wife, who was now a widow. The merchant's widow sought out authorities and had them arrest La Bella Pellegrina as a wayward daughter.

"The widow greeted the young woman joyfully in prison, claiming God had sent a blessing by restoring her beautiful child alive and returning her as a holy pilgrim. She then asked if her daughter was at last ready to embrace her true vocation as a nun.

"Aradia responded stiffly, 'It is not possible for me to be a nun. I have left the Catholic Church and become a worshipper of the Moon. I have no mother, except Diana.'

"And the end of it was that the mother, regarding her daughter as lost, gave her up to the priests to be put to torture and death, as they did all who would not agree with them or who left their religion."

Robin's brow furrowed in sadness.

"She was locked in a tower near the Church that her mother had decreed, to be executed the following morning. Aradia prayed at the window by the light of the full moon to Diana that she might be delivered. Her mother and the priests remained in the cathedral to watch over the tower, lest she should again escape.

"When, lo! In answer to her prayer there came a terrible tempest and overwhelming wind, a storm such as man had never seen before, which overthrew and swept away the Church and the tower, leaving not one stone left upon another, nor one soul alive of all who were there. The gods had replied to the prayer.

"The young lady happily escaped, and wedded a man who had become her lover; and the house of the peasant where the lady stood is still called _La Casa al Vento_."

Jana closed the book, a satisfied smile on her face, and looked up to the two seated before her, with mixed looks of confusion and recognition on their faces.

"Nonna," Robin said quickly, "the townspeople have been calling me that since I have arrived in Sovana." 

"_Come?_" Jana asked curiously, smiling as though she already knew the answer.

"La Bella Pellegrina," Robin whispered, and Amon turned to look at her. "Why do they name me after such a woman?"

Something else flashed into her memory, from her conversation weeks ago with Giovanna. "Nonna, how did they know I was related to you?"

Jana smoothed her hand along the worn, leather hide of the book's cover, before she raised her eyes again to meet with her granddaughter's. "Because they know that I am a Witch, _bambina_."

Amon's eyes narrowed, as Robin gasped. "They all know?" she asked.

"My mother was a Witch," Jana went on, steeling her gaze at Amon, whom she could see was ready to challenge her. "As was her mother before that."

"That is impossible," Amon interrupted, his voice neutral. "You must already know from Toudou's research; he himself said that the gene conferring direct inheritance of witchcraft had been lost thousands of years ago."

Jana nodded.

"Then how do you explain it?" he demanded, and Robin tensed at his reaction.

"He discovered the gene from my own lineage," she explained calmly. "I am, before Robin, the last surviving descendent of the true Bloodline of Witches...whose heredity was reborn hundreds of years ago, with the return of the Goddess." She paused as silence permeated the air.

"I am a descendent of Aradia." She nodded at Robin. "As are you, having been cloned from _mi figlia_, Maria."

Robin's eyes were alight with realization, but Amon could not believe it.

"It is a myth, the story you read to us," he argued. "There was no such person."

"How can you be so sure?" Jana asked mysteriously. "How else would you explain occurrence of Witches in _mi famiglia_?"

Amon had no answer.

Jana seemed to nod to herself in affirmation. "As well as this story, I think is time I showed you something else," she said, getting up from her chair again to fetch another book. "It is a book from Toudou...one that he knew he could not afford to leave in Japan."

Robin and Amon exchanged glances. "Jana, we have Toudou's journal already in our possession," Amon responded, as she returned to the table carrying another book.

"Not _his_ journal," Jana explained, as she handed it to him. "This is a journal of another of SOLOMON's researchers, who was Toudou's mentor...who Toudou later followed in his own research."

Amon took the book from her, briefly opening it and thumbing through it curiously as Jana spoke. 

"He gave it to me to keep here, before he return to Japan," she said thoughtfully, her eyes far away as Robin watched her. "He know SOLOMON would come looking for it, to hide its contents."

"What were they trying to hide?" Robin asked, watching as Jana raised her glance slightly upwards.

Robin felt a sudden chill, as she followed Jana's gaze to her partner, who was still thumbing through the small book.

A knock at the door disrupted their thoughts.

"Eh?" Jana asked herself, curiously. "Not many visitors, this hour." It was late in the afternoon, dusk not too far off. She went to the door, leaving Robin and Amon at the table, he still absorbed with the book, she watching her grandmother in confusion.

Jana opened the door to see the woman from the village, whom had entreated Robin and Amon to help her daughter. The woman recognized Jana instantly. "Ah, _scusi, Donna Jana....parla mi a Pellegrina, per favore?_"

Jana nodded, smiling. "_Si_." She called out to Robin, the young witch appearing next to her in the doorway within a moment. Robin was startled to see the woman again so soon.

"_Tua figlia, come è va?_" she asked instantly, and was taken aback by the woman's outburst.

The mother clasped Robin's hands in her own again, her voice nearly hysterical with relief. "_Sei un angelo, Pellegrina!_ She is already awake, and her fever gone." She took her hands away briefly to dig into the pockets of her peasant-like dress, bringing out coins and holding them towards Robin. "_Per favore_...I have no other gifts to bring you to thank you...._per favore, accetta di me_."

Robin's eyes widened at the gift presented before her---she doubted the woman had much more money that what she offered---and she shook her head, gently pushing the woman's hand back. "_Non accetto._" She looked into the woman's dismayed face, and offered with a soft smile, "_Omaggio_."

The woman replaced her hurt look with a brilliant smile. "Then I pay my respects to you, Pellegrina, day after tomorrow." She turned to leave, her steps light, and she looked as though she was happy with her decision.

"Day after tomorrow?" Robin asked after her, curiously. "_Come questa?_"

"_La Giornata di Diana,_" she turned to answer proudly, before waving and continuing down the cobblestone path. 

"Day of Diana," Robin whispered to herself, wondering.

***

Later, after dinner, Robin prepared her nightly bath. As she rinsed herself with a soft sponge in the steaming water, lost in thought, she recalled the story her grandmother had read to them, in vivid detail.

_Aradia._ She had done many good deeds, harboring freed slaves, protecting women and children, healing the sick...

And yet...she also encouraged wrongdoing, against people she deemed were evil..._ You shall bind the oppressor's soul with power.....You shall teach the art of poisoning...ruin his harvest with tempest...._

Was such a thing right? Were the things she instructed her followers to do justified? 

She recalled the Witches and Hunters she had burnt with her flame. All of them had been destroyed by her...because of their attempts to hurt others.

The Church gave her conflicting notions. _Do no harm unto others._ But as a Hunter under Juliano's instruction, she had learned differently. _Witches abusing their powers must be eliminated._

Amon's words came to her, from when they had Hunted Masuda, the Witch who had been investigated by the Inquisitor as to whether he could be a Hunter. _His true darkness had been revealed._

_Everyone has some darkness within them,_ her response to him had been.

Did that include herself? Where did the judgement end, and the vindictiveness begin?...

A hesitant knock came to the bathroom door, and Robin started, jolted suddenly out of her thoughts. 

"Robin." It was Amon.

Eyes wide, her face suddenly heated, Robin attempted to cover herself in the water, despite the door still being closed. "_Ah...hai?_" she asked, surprised.

"I opened the vent in Jana's chimney," his soft voice came through the door, "and Jana was wondering...if you wanted to..." He paused, uncertainly.

"Make a fire."

A slow smile crept to her face, and she was glad he couldn't see it....he would've demanded to know what she found amusing, and probably would have chastised her for letting something so trivial cause her so much contentment.

"_Si,_" she called out, sinking further underneath the water.

***

Jana had gone to bed early, instructing them to douse the fire when they were ready to go to sleep.

Robin and Amon sat on the floor, side by side with their arms on their bent knees, watching the flames lick the dry wood behind the mesh screen. 

The warmth was comforting. Robin had donned a long-sleeved nightgown, given to her by her grandmother, and had combed out her hair after her bath...she was glad that it was drying quickly by the heat of the fire.

Amon was still in his clothes from earlier in the day, and he sat in front of the fire in his long-sleeved shirt and dark pants, his feet in socks after having removed his boots. Bast came up to them from across the room, curling up to Amon affectionately before settling inbetween them to enjoy the warmth of the hearth.

Robin glanced down at the cat, amused. "She really likes you," she noted softly. "She sleeps with you every night, doesn't she?"

Amon nodded absently, looking down at the silver cat before staring back into the fire.

"I wonder," she said quietly, "how much of that story was true."

Amon's brow furrowed. "It sounds as though it is a myth, handed down in Jana's---" He stopped as he corrected himself. "---in your family."

"Is it?" she asked, staring back into the fire, mesmerized by the glow. "It seemed as though the inscription at the cathedral that had her name on it was related to the story...and there was even a tower..." She trailed off, lost in thought.

"I have these memories, these thoughts of things that seem familiar to me, although there is no reason for them to," she said, her voice carrying a hint of despondency. "Why do I have these feelings?"

Amon did not reply. Robin stared into the flames as they burned, her thoughts churning, even as her tired body began to give in to sleep.

"Who am I?" she whispered softly to herself, her question not having escaped the keen hearing of her partner seated beside her.

Fatigue overtook her, and she closed her eyes drowsily, reopening them more slowly each time she blinked. Eventually after a few moments, her head began to droop.

"You are Robin," Amon said quietly in return, his voice certain as he stared in the direction of the fire, watching it intently.

He started in surprise when he felt her head fall against his shoulder. Robin had fallen asleep.

"Oi," he said softly, torn between waking her and allowing her to sleep on, her cheek resting on his upper arm. Part of him resented her closeness, still fearful of the intimacy that accompanied it...

The other part of him was strangely accepting of her nearness, and the comfort of her touch, even if it was unconscious.

That same part of him realized he would have to carry her to bed....which was not an unpleasant thought, when he digested it fully.

He stared back into the fire, feeling oddly complete, as girl and cat rested comfortably against him.

.

******************************

Next chapter:

Past buried in secrets....A Ritual of Remembrance....Stoking the embers of a slow burn. Chapter 7.

* * *

Che cos'è quello?: What is that?  
Niente: nothing  
Si, lo so: Yes, I know  
Pellegrina: pilgrim  
mi figlia: my daughter  
Perché: Why?  
Prenda mi a lei: Take me to her  
Come la chiami: what is her name  
Madre di Dio: Mother of God  
Aspetta: wait  
Che e bene: Is she all right?  
Bentornata: welcome back  
cattedrale: cathedral  
mi famiglia: my family  
La Pellegrina della Casa al Vento: The female Pilgrim of the House of the Wind  
fata: fairy  
stelle: star  
Donna: this has a few meanings. It translates in Italian as the word "woman", but it can also mean "Lady". I'm using the Lady definition here. ^^  
parla mi a Pellegrina, per favore?: may I speak to the Pilgrim, please?  
Tua figlia, come è va?: Your daughter, how is she?  
Sei un angelo: Bless you (lit. 'you are an angel')  
accetta di me: accept from me  
omaggio: free gift  
Come questa: what is that  
La Giornata di Diana: Day of Diana (also known as Tana's Day/ Beltaine)  
hai: yes [Japanese] 

The story of Aradia is from Charles G. Leland's _Aradia: Gospel of the Witches_, 1899.

* * *

Okay, I just wanted answer some of the reviews I've gotten lately for the story...which are really amazing me with the increasing numbers. *bows humbly* Arigatou! :

Demeter: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. ^^ Thanks so much for the praise! The Italian thing is hard to keep up with, scrolling back and forth, I know....all I can offer in consolation is that the Italian will be interwoven a bit less in later chapters, and I'll try not to incorporate *too many* new phrases along the way, so it won't be as tedious. But that's provided you guys catch on to a few common phrases. ^_~ It's like Italian class! Hehe.  
Lariana: Glad you like Bast! Her role will be more integral later on, if I have anything to do with it. ^^  
Sarah: Your review cracked me up! I'm flattered that you lost sleep over my story; although I'm not so sure it's good for you! ^^; Thanks for reassuring me about Amon's characterization, I'm trying my best at such a difficult guy. ^^ I'll try to continue to be punctual with updates.  
Tsukinoko: Ahh, arigatou for clearing the fig thing up for me! ^^ It's reassuring to know that there *are* figs in Japan, although it might depend on the region. And don't worry, Amon and Robin *will* get closer. Oh yes. ^^  
Ayeko: Your words really motivated me to plod through into the next chapter! Thanks so much for your encouragement. I'm glad you're enjoying the characterizations, as well as the pace of the story. It's true, I never realized until I started writing, just how many things were left kind of open-ended, and assumed. I mean to make sense of it all. ^^  
Irena: Thanks for your review...and as for why the characters are speaking English...well....^^; it would be a little hard to read this story if the characters were speaking nothing but Italian, right? Not to mention difficult for me to write....so I guess you have to suspend a certain amount of disbelief and accept the idea that people in parts of rural Italy might speak some English. ^^  
Rio Grande: Thanks for your comments! I'm glad you enjoy it, and I hope that I'm continuing to do justice to the Italian lifestyle. I know it's moving slowly, but there will be more romance later on, I can promise you that!  
Hikari: Viva la luna! ^^ I couldn't agree with you more....3am is a terrible time, hopefully you will get a chance to purchase the DVDs soon. I believe volumes 1-3 are out now.   
To everyone else who has reviewed: your comments mean a lot to me, and I hope you continue to stick through this story, as long and drawn-out as it's ended up being ^^; Thanks for your encouragement!


	8. Chapter 7: Beltaine

A/N : "Beltaine" is actually the Celtic term for the holiday that falls on April 30/ May1, and not the Italian name for the holiday; however I chose Beltaine for the title simply because most people aware of pagan festivals recognize it more often by that name than Tana's Day or Giornata di Diana/Tana. ^^ 

Just as a warning: some OOC-ness might be afoot. I tried really hard to keep them in character...but somewhere along the line I think the atmosphere took over and....anyway. ^^

Enough babbling; read on!

***************************************

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 7: Beltaine **

.

* * *

Robin awoke as she often did at Jana's house, with the singing of birds from their oak nests, outside of her bedroom window. It seemed the same as any other morning, as she listened to the sounds of Jana in the kitchen, merrily preparing breakfast....except....

She recalled the last evening's events. After her bath...she had sat by the fire with Amon....Bast had joined them, and they had continued talking, until....

She paused in her thoughts. _What happened after that?_

She had fallen asleep by the fire. Another curious thought raced through her mind: _How did I get into bed?_

The idea that perhaps Amon had brought her there and deposited her into bed, after she had fallen asleep, brought a faint pink stain to her cheeks; but a further realization, as she lifted the sheet and looked down at her body, caused her heart to hammer erratically in panic.

_So...why am I naked?_ Had he undressed her?

She was aware that he knew of her sleeping habits; they had shared hotel rooms in the two-day span between their escape from Factory and their refuge in Italy. The idea that he would actually take it upon himself to do such a thing...even if he knew it meant she would sleep more comfortably....

Robin cringed and pulled the covers back over her head with a forlorn moan. She didn't know if she could bear to look at him this morning.

***

When she had dressed, she made it cautiously out of her room, peeking across the hallway as she did. Amon was awake; his door was ajar.

She headed quietly into the kitchen, her hands laced together in front of her, chestnut-blonde hair fanning over her shoulders. Amon and Jana looked over in her direction as she entered.

"_Buon giorno,_" Jana called in her standard morning greeting from the stovetop.

Amon was seated at the table, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed in his chair as he sipped from a mug of steaming coffee. He gazed over in her direction, his facial features devoid of emotion, save for a strange glinting in his otherwise unreadable eyes.

"_Buon giorno_, Robin," he said, fixing her with the look, and she inwardly shivered underneath his gaze.

"_Buon giorno_," she answered them both hesitantly, and with docile movements made her way to the table and sat down beside Amon, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

Amon was unusually talkative. Normally he said very little before afternoon, as though he were slow to fully awaken---not so, this day. "Did you sleep all right, Robin?" he asked her nonchalantly, as though it were something he asked her often.

Robin's eyes widened as she reached for the cup of coffee that had been set out for her. Her hand closing around the mug hesitated.

"_Si,_" she said meekly, her chestnut hair falling to hide her face from his eyes.

Jana noticed the exchange with interest out of the corner of her eye, raising her eyebrow as she continued cooking their breakfast.

"Amon," Robin whispered, trying her best to keep their conversation from Jana's ears.

"Mm." Amon seemed preoccupied with his coffee, leaning back in his chair.

"When I woke up this morning, I was...unclothed..." She paused, almost unable to ask. "Did you..."

"Isn't that how you normally wake up?" he asked quietly, his own voice barely above a whisper.

"_...Si_," she answered uncertainly.

"So what makes you think I would have anything to do with it?" he reasoned, sipping again from his mug. He decided he wouldn't tell her about having checked in on her briefly after putting her to bed the previous night, and seeing that she had shed the nightgown in her sleep and thrown it off the bed onto the floor. In his own way, he supposed, his teasing was subtle revenge for her having made him feel obligated to be so attentive to her, when part of him still did not feel comfortable doing so. 

But even as he tried to deceive her, the observation of her distress caused the guilt to seep into his chest and curl there.

Robin looked down at her hands again, realizing he wasn't going to give her a straight answer. "I don't remember," she said softly. She looked up again at him with a sideways glance, her green eyes at once both fearful and suspicious.

Jana brought the skillet to the table, filling their plates before setting it back down and taking her customary seat across from them. 

"Today is May Eve, night before Giornata di Diana," she informed them, smiling. "Many things happening tonight and tomorrow in the village. Are you going today?" she asked, directing her question at both of them.

"I was not planning on it," Amon responded casually, digging into his food.

"_La Giornata di Diana_," Robin said, looking at Jana. "_ Che cos'è quello?_"

Jana's eyes danced with amusement. "Tana's Day," she responded, "is the largest celebration next to Yule in this region. Tana is another name for _La Matrona_, Diana. Is a celebration of spring turning into summer, of the beginning of the summer harvest, and celebration of fertility and beginnings of life."

"A pagan holiday," Amon observed, and Jana nodded.

"Our village begins celebration at nightfall on May Eve, and celebrates throughout day on _del primo Maggio_. Is really a beautiful celebration; with dancing, music, feasting..."

"It sounds wonderful," Robin said, her lips gentling into a smile. 

Jana's eyes gleamed with mirth as she looked upon her granddaughter. "I think they might have special role for you, _bambina_."

Robin's expression turned into surprise. "_Per me?_"

***

Robin walked alone into the _via de Mezzo_. Amon had chosen to stay behind at Jana's; he had told her he wished to read through the journal of Toudou's colleague to find out what was special about it, if anything. She was still uncomfortable with the idea of Amon having seen her undressed, even though he hadn't actually confessed to it....so she decided it was best that she let him have his time alone. If he changed his mind, he would know where to find her.

She hadn't gotten far into the downtown area of Sovana before she saw the old woman, Giovanna, waving to her from a distance.

"_Pellegrina!_" the woman called to her. Robin waved back politely, approaching Giovanna, who looked as though she were directing a group of villagers in setting up some sort of decoration in the middle of the village square.

"_Buon giorno,_ Giovanna," Robin said amicably, once she was at the old woman's side. She watched as Giovanna directed four twenty-something young men to erect the ten-foot pole in the center of the square, settling it into a pre-made hole in the cobblestone walkway, burying the end of it in the earth. It was secured with supporting beams of wood on all four sides, as one of the men held the pole steady.

"_A cose serve questo?_" she asked the old woman, staring interestedly up at the pole as the men secured it.

Giovanna turned to her and grinned. "_E' palo di fiori,_" she responded. "Maypole."

Robin remembered Jana's words. "This is to celebrate La Giornata di Diana?" she asked.

Giovanna nodded. "_Si, si._ Today, we decorate. Tomorrow, the young ones dance around it." Her eyes shone with mischief as she looked at the chestnut-haired witch. "Including _tu, bambina._"

"_Io?_" she asked, surprised. "But I don't---"

"One other thing you must do for us," Giovanna was saying, having ignored Robin's protests. "Tomorrow we need to make a large fire here in square. We would like you to do the honor of lighting it with your flame."

Again, Robin was taken aback. After a pause, she asked, "Are you sure that it's what everyone wants?"

"_Si, bambina,_" Giovanna said, laughing lightly. "_Il fuoco_ is part of ritual of celebration, of purifying." She smiled gently into the girl's green eyes. "Is a magical flame....who better to provide us with it..._si?_"

Robin let her face relax into a smile. "_Si._"

***

Amon began leafing through the pages of the journal.

It appeared to have been written by a SOLOMON researcher who was Italian, possibly someone Toudou had worked with or perhaps met while working on the Witch Genome project in Europe. The scientist's name was Mario Benedetto. The dates of the hastily scribbled journal entries, most of them surprisingly written in English, coincided with approximately ten to eleven years before Robin's birth, seven years before Toudou himself would begin working on "Project Devil's Child". Amon doubted that Toudou had begun working on genomes at the same time as Benedetto; he couldn't have possibly been more than ten years older than Maria, in the picture he had seen at Toudou's mother's house in Japan. He would have been her age when Benedetto started his research.

Most of the writings in the first half of the journal contained various complex equations and mathematical notes, many of which escaped Amon's understanding. He supposed it would have been helpful to have someone familiar with SOLOMON's scientific research to decode the formulas in both Benedetto's and Toudou's journals. Even though they had gleaned some notes of interest from Toudou's written words, much of his journal was still indecipherable to both Robin and Amon.

One phrase seemed to stand out as being consistent with what he had read phrased over and over again in Toudou's journal: several sentences contained a figure that looked like the Greek letter "pi".

"_...Pi's value corresponds to genetic frequency of alteration...._" he read to himself softly. He frowned, his fingers pausing over the page. He folded a corner of the page, turning to pick up Toudou's book, and flipped to the page Nagira had previously marked:

"_...The analysis of pi's genome has been completed...pi becomes a gene...thus, the way to control the abilities has been opened,_" he read.

_Pi's genome._ What did the value have to do with abilities? Was "pi" referencing a value of genetic changes related to Witchcraft?....or was it a code name of some sort, actually referencing a person?

He switched back to Benedetto's journal and continued reading, flipping back to earlier pages that he might have missed. 

"_Egyptian relics confirm presence of pi in architecture, as well as art and mathematical formulas..._" he read. "_...Study of genealogy leading back to first known ancestor reveals pi-like values inherent in makeup of exon-intron splicing. Suggest this may be a common theme in enabling translation of differentially truncated proteins, leading to abilities relating to modification of external environments..._"

Amon rubbed his eyes. _Exon-intron splicing?_ He had the distinct feeling he was out of his league in reading these books.

He impatiently flipped forward again in the journal, nearing the end of the small book. He opened it to a page that caught his eye, and read again:

"_Day 112....Seed subject has not encountered any problems thus far with pregnancy. Fetal progression is normal; however there is no detection of pi-related protein production in amniocentesis fluid. Genes may possibly be dormant until birth or may activate in utero if the maternal Seed is awakened. Side-note: Matoko has complained of a piercing pain in her lower-left abdominal quadrant; seems to not be noticeable lying down. Suggest she try...._"

Amon lifted his eyes from the book. _Matoko..._

He put the book aside, distractedly, as he got up from the desk and slowly went to the window of the small bedroom he occupied in Jana's house.

He looked out into the light of the afternoon sun, at the trees surrounding the east end of Jana's home. The branches and leaves swayed gently in the breeze, and he felt the cool air enter the room through the window, tousling his hair as it passed in.

It was a coincidence....it had to be. There was no other explanation for it.

There was no family name mentioned.....

...but Matoko had been his mother's name.

***

The remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon passed by quickly for Robin, as she helped Giovanna and several men, women and children from the village gather flowers from a nearby meadow in large baskets, to be taken back to town and made into decorations for the next day's festivities. She smiled and laughed as she watched the children, boys and girls, collecting daisies of all colors, marigolds, bluebells and roses from the field. Many of the girl children followed behind her long dark skirts, attempting to hold her hand, or brought her the flowers they'd picked for her baskets; the boys, mischievous and shy, focused less on picking the flowers and more on cutting paths for the Beautiful Pilgrim through the flora and fauna in front of her. Upon their return to the village, the stems of the wildflowers were cut and the ends kept in bowls of sugared water, to keep the beautiful spring flowers alive and radiant until the next day.

As she finished having helped with the flowers, she returned to the center of the village square, where she observed men standing on stools and ladders, fastening long, wide red and white ribbons to the top of the Maypole.

Giovanna came up to her. "_Grazie_ for all of your effort today, Pellegrina," she said earnestly, taking Robin's arm. "We should be able to finish up by dusk. Go," she said, her dark eyes shining, "go home to _sua consorte_."

Robin looked slightly perplexed by her comment, but recovered and asked, "Are you certain that there is no more to do?"

Giovanna shook her head. "We can finish. Don't forget to come early tomorrow; _la festa comincia alle nove_." Her eyes lit up as she remembered something. "Ah...also, be sure to put out home fire tonight, in honor of tomorrow's lighting." She nodded and patted Robin on the back, sending her on her way. "_A domani!_"

***

After having helped Jana to prepare dinner, which was a pork roast with a delicate _fettucini alfredo_, Robin got up after the meal and cleared dishes. She was surprised, as she did, to hear the sound of another chair backing away from the table, and heavy footsteps on the tiled floor. Amon appeared behind her shoulder as she stood at the sink, carrying the remainder of the dinner plates. Robin looked up at him, her mouth agape.

His expression was neutral. "I will dry them, if you wash," he said, and found that he liked the reappearance of her trademark half-smile, the one that was more evident in her eyes than on her lips.

"_Grazie_," she said softly, and took the dirty dishes from him, offering him a clean one. His behavior mystified her at times, but she decided it was not worth overanalyzing. She would accept the moments of kindness he offered her, unquestioningly.

They finished cleaning the dishes in silence, Jana having moved off to her bedroom, and when the kitchen was cleaned to their satisfaction, they turned to each other.

"Should we..." Amon began hesitantly, "light a fire?"

Robin was about to nod; suddenly she caught herself, and said quickly, "Oh, Giovanna said we are to extinguish fires tonight in honor of the festival tomorrow."

"Festival?" he asked, and then he remembered from the morning. "Ah...that thing."

"I would like to take a walk tonight, though, if it's all right," Robin said softly, and he nodded.

"I'll get our coats."

The moon was nearly full again, and generated enough light for them to see their way along the path leading up the hill to the _via de Mezzo_. They walked side by side in amiable silence, occasionally glancing at one another in the thin darkness, until they had reached the top of the hill where they had a view of the downtown of the village below, and other homes scattered among the hillsides beyond that. Behind them was a dense forest of oak and pine. 

They sat upon the grass on the hilltop, talking softly to each other in low voices and watching the fires in the village being extinguished one by one, like stars blinking and fading out into the darkness.

"Did you find anything of interest in the journal Nonna gave you?" Robin asked after they had talked for a bit.

Amon shook his head slowly. "Nothing yet...a strange reference, but not much else." Robin stopped herself from pressing him for more information; he would share it when he felt necessary.

"We will make sense of it," she said softly, with a quiet certainty, and he looked at her in the semi-darkness before he nodded.

Realization dawned within him. After having found the disturbing reference to his mother's name in the journal, Amon became aware of the fact that he had thought of nothing else for the remainder of the afternoon other being in Robin's presence again. It was as though he gained some reassurance from being with her...as though he needed to know that she was going to stay near him, and not leave him....

He tried his best to brush the thoughts aside. It was so unlike him to think about depending on anyone else other than himself...he had not done so since he was a young child.....since....

"Ready to go back?" she asked him after a while, and he nodded distractedly.

It was best not to think about such things.

It would be difficult to sleep if he did.

***

The morning of May first was a hectic one.

Robin bolted upright in bed, awakened by some inner alarm, and checked the small travel clock she kept by her bedside. Eight-thirty. She leapt out of bed, clothing herself hurriedly in her pilgrim dress, and rushed out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to fix her hair.

Jana was awake already, and Robin could smell coffee brewing. 

"_Bambina?_" She heard Jana calling her from the kitchen through the bathroom door. "_Avanti_, is almost quarter til. _Amon, svegliati!_"

A half-smile quirked Robin's lips, as she attempted to fix her hair. Amon had surely heard that, even through his bedroom door.

Sure enough, she could hear rustling noises coming from the direction of his bedroom, and a softly muffled "_Hai....hai..._" She felt her face grow warm as she tried to recall exactly how he looked while sleeping. She had always fallen asleep before him, and usually had risen after him....what did he sleep in, anyhow? 

The answer to her question came unexpectedly, as she opened the door of the bathroom to head out. At the same moment, Amon's bedroom door opened, to reveal him standing in the doorway shirtless and barefoot, wearing only pajama pants, his dark hair sufficiently rumpled, suggesting his sleep was uneasy. Bast sauntered casually out of his room, her tail curling around his ankles as she departed.

Both of them momentarily gawked at each other---Amon feeling awkward that she had caught him in such a way---until Robin modestly averted her eyes and headed down the hallway, more quickly than she had intended, throwing back a meek "_Buon giorno_" as she passed. 

"_Buon giorno,_" he answered neutrally, feeling a flush of something he didn't understand. He decided he knew now how she had felt waking up the previous morning.

Robin went directly to the kitchen, greeting Jana and taking an offered cup of coffee. Jana looked closely at her granddaughter. "Robin?" she asked, concerned, and attempted to reach to touch the girl's face. "Do you have a fever, _bambina_?"

Robin shook her head hurriedly and turned away, sipping carefully from the steaming mug. Jana shrugged and went back to the stove.

"I hope Amon is hurrying...the lighting of the _Belfire_ is soon," she said. "People will be gathering in village, awaiting our arrival..."

Amon appeared, completely dressed and having managed to tame his unruly dark locks. He glanced at Robin, who turned away, before directing his attention to Jana.

"_Andiamo,_" he said, and both Jana and even Robin smiled at his Japanese-accented Italian.

***

The three of them made it to the entrance of the _via de Mezzo_, and from there they could hear the music and the sound of the crowd. Jana looked positively delighted by the prospect, clasping her hands togther in anticipation; Amon and Robin looked less ecstatic, and more curious.

They entered the main square of the village, to find the Sovanan townsfolk in full celebratory swing.

There was a large musical band playing off to the right of the square, with instruments that looked old and archaic, but were nevertheless merrily playing tunes to which many of the townsfolk, men and women, were dancing to. There were opulent spreads of food already laid out on tables along the street, and Robin could smell the lingering scents of fruit, dairy items, and cakes. Off to the left of the square, off the road where grass began, there looked to be several activities going on: Robin noticed an archery setup, as well as two men off to another side fencing with swords, to the delight of onlookers. Flowers were everywhere, adorning trees and shops and women and children, and the Maypole stood proudly in the center of the festivity, white and red ribbons hanging enticingly down from the top of the pole, and flowers tied all the way down the length of it in spiraling patterns of blue, red, white, and yellow.

It took Robin's breath away, and she could tell it had the same effect on Amon.

Giovanna managed to see the three of them through the chaos of the crowd. "Ah, _buon giorno!_" she cried, and they went to meet her, Jana greeting her the most warmly of the three, with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. 

"I see you made it here, just in time, _bambina_," Giovanna said to Robin. "_Avanti_...let's begin." Robin nodded graciously and allowed the old woman to lead her away by the hand.

Amon's eyes followed her departure, and Jana took his arm with gentleness. "She will be all right," she reassured him, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight, and he looked down at her and nodded.

Giovanna led Robin up to a large pit at the south end of the square, where twigs and logs had been piled level with the ground, and a large concentration of the townsfolk had gathered to await the lighting of the fire. Constant chatter and mumbling ceased with their approach, and as they stood before the pit, Giovanna turned and addressed the crowd. Even the musicians in the corner of the square had stopped.

"_Buon giorno, tutti,_" she called out, to the crowd of smiling and anxious faces. "_Grazie_ for coming, and for being so patient. We are now ready to light the Belfire, which will begin today's festivities." The crowd of townsfolk clapped and cheered in appreciation.

Giovanna continued, "On May Eve, we put out all other fires in our homes, to be re-lit from this one, our Belfire, the fire burning at the center, the hearth of our community. This sacred hearth represents the mystic divine fire at center of all things, whose spark of life is carried by each of us."

She then did something that amazed Robin; she directed her next words at the sky.

"Mother Goddess, Queen of the night and of the Earth;  
Father God, King of the day and of the forest;  
We celebrate your union as nature rejoices in a riotous blaze of color and life.  
Accept our gifts,   
Mother Goddess and Father God, in honor of Your union.  
From Your mating shall spring forth life anew;  
A profusion of living creatures shall cover the lands,  
And the winds will blow pure and sweet.  
Ancient Ones,  
We celebrate with You!"

Again the townsfolk began to cheer and clap, and Giovanna in the midst of it turned to Robin.

"Pellegrina," she said, and nodded meaningfully.

Robin inclined her head in response, feeling partly embarrassed by the spectacle and partly giddy with the joy that had diffused into the air with the townsfolk's excitement and Giovanna's words, and she turned her eyes onto the pit. A spark appeared in the emerald depths, and not a split-second later, the pit erupted into a brilliant red-gold flame that reached as high as the Maypole itself before settling to a comfortable burn.

More cheers came up from the townsfolk and from Giovanna, and Robin watched in fascination as men and women in the crowd reached to kiss one another, irregardless of marital status.

Jana was suddenly at her side again, and took Robin into her arms in a sweeping hug. Over her grandmother's shoulder, Robin could see Amon standing off in the distance behind her, his dark eyes watching her intently.

The music spontaneously started up again, and the celebration commenced.

***

Robin was sampling some of the numerous sugary cakes and breads out on display. She had been led over to the table by one of the daughters of the merchant Gennaro, a young dark-haired child named Andria, who had insisted that "Pellega" accompany her to try the delicious sweets. 

"_Questo qui! Questo qui!_" the girl chanted, pointing to a cinnamon bread, and Robin hesitated before cutting a piece for herself and the child.

"_Tua padre va bene se?_" She didn't want to anger Gennaro by indulging his daughter on a sugar spree---the child seemed hyperactive enough as she was---but Robin could not refuse the trusting, childlike eyes.

Andria nodded solemnly, before hopping up and down again as she watched the Pilgrim slice a small piece of bread for her. 

Robin looked briefly out into the crowd, her eyes searching.

Jana appeared at her shoulder, holding a glass of what looked to be wine. "_Bambina_, I wanted to let you know; there will be many people today offering you gifts and...acting a bit unusual," she spoke near her granddaughter's ear, placing the glass in Robin's free hand. "Don't be startled by it---just accept good graces of Sovana townsfolk, and indulge them." She motioned towards the wine. "Drink this; it is a special sweet wine made from delicate fruit."

"Nonna---" Robin had already begun to protest that it was not yet ten in the morning, and too early to drink wine, but her grandmother leaned in closer and whispered:

"He is looking for you, too, _bambina_."

She looked out into the crowd in the direction Jana had been facing, assuming her grandmother had meant her partner; but she did not see Amon anywhere in the crowd. She turned to where Jana had been standing, already asking "_Dove...?_", but found the older woman had disappeared, already moving back into the festive gathering.

Andria clamored for her attention again, and Robin distractedly resumed sampling the sweet cakes on display.

A while later, she was moving easily through the crowd, past dancing couples and merry makers. The wine she had sipped had been sweet and tasted of fruit such as melon or cantaloupe, and the lingering effects of it seemed to warm her entire body pleasantly. Between the wine and the sun overhead, she felt as though warmth were permeating through her veins. Men and women alike from the village had been approaching her all morning, some offering flowers, some simply greeting her and demonstrating affection; she had decided that the attention was flattering, and certainly not as overwhelming as Jana had initially made it sound. She had come to know many of the townsfolk already from her near-daily visits into the village, and the affection they lavished upon her made her feel even more at ease with them.

She had not seen Amon for about an hour, and was contemplating searching for him when she heard a whistle blowing off to the right, coming from the open meadow near the square. She went to investigate, drawn on by curiosity, and discovered that it was an archery tournament. Men from the village had lined up to shoot at round targets on the opposite end of the field. The competition had drawn quite a crowd, but they parted, smiling widely when she approached, to allow her to view the scene. What she saw made her gasp in surprise, as the tournament leader blew his whistle again and shouted, "_Arciere!_"

Amon stepped to the front of the line, holding a wooden bow, a quiver of arrows slung across the shoulder of his dark overcoat. He placed his feet carefully, one on either side of the shooting line, his body facing the onlookers but his angular profile fixed on the target off in the distance. Robin watched, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze, and her eyes widened as the leader blew his whistle once more.

"_Spara!_"

With fluid and precise movements, Amon effortlessly removed an arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and drew the bow, loosing it towards the target. Murmurs of appreciation went up from the crowd as one, then two, then three arrows hit the target at the end of the field, nearly dead-center.

The crowd applauded, as did Robin, as he finally lowered his bow and surveyed the target. Villagers on the sidelines began shouting out to him, calling him _il cacciatore_, the huntsman. He turned to face the onlookers, and instantly met Robin's gaze, holding it for moments as people milled around them.

He stepped off to the side of the tournament area, leaving the bow behind, and Robin met him on the grass.

"Where did you learn archery, Amon?" she asked curiously, her expression revealing the half-smile that he had made a habit of searching for on her face.

"Solomon," he responded after a pause, and her eyes widened appreciatively. "One of the many hunting skills we were trained with." He noted with a twinge of guilt that her smile had faded. 

She folded her hands in front of her with an imperceptible bow of her head. "I see...it is part of the reason then that you are one of their most talented Hunters." She looked slightly forlorn as she said it.

"_Was,_" he corrected softly, and she looked up into his eyes with a sudden, new understanding.

Before either of them could say more, they were interrupted by a cacophony of voices; Sovanan townspeople were approaching them, chanting in Italian phrases that Robin vaguely recognized as "God of the Hunt" and "maiden". Two girls, both of them appearing to be close to, if not the same age as Robin, approached her, both of them smiling and giggling as though they knew a secret. "Pellegrina," they entreated her, both of them taking her arms and leading her away, "_avanti!_"

Robin was too stunned to resist, but upon hearing Amon call her name, an uncertain tone in his voice, she cast a glance back at him in confusion. She saw the worry on his face, and sought to reassure him. "_Daijoubou,_" she said in Japanese.

"Robin," he called out again in protest, and moved to follow her, but found his path blocked by several other villagers. They spoke to him calmly in Italian, pressing him away in the opposite direction, and when he didn't discern any harm to her, he followed them reluctantly.

***

She was led to a covered tent, where young women began undoing the ribbons binding her hair, brushing loose the ginger strands of silk, as well as encouraging her to change clothes into a sleeveless, flowing white gown; all the while whispering Italian charms of praise to her.

Robin felt vaguely nervous---especially when she spied the thin spaghetti-straps of the dress and realized the expanse of flesh that would be revealed---but she recalled Jana's gentle plea to indulge the townsfolk in their antics, and she obliged the girls. After changing into the gossamer white gown and given sandals for shoes in lieu of her boots, she allowed them to adorn her loose hair with a garland of multicolored daisies. Giggling and marveling at their work, the girls led Robin out of the tent to greet the awaiting audience.

As she exited the tent, she had to almost stifle a laugh behind a slim hand at the vision before her. 

Amon had been similarly kidnapped, and while he had apparently conceded to wearing a crown of green ivy on his dark head, he was sternly pushing away offers of trading his overcoat for a medieval-looking dark brown cloak. It was obvious---but perhaps not to the Italians---that he had already reached the limits of his patience with the game.

He turned abruptly, seeing her emerge from the tent, and the sight of her made him stop short, catching his breath. The villagers delighted at his reaction, and laughed and shouted merrily as they pushed him towards her, some of them bursting into spontaneous Italian song. 

Amon seemed at a loss, and even less comfortable once he was closer in proximity to her. "_Daijoubou?_" he asked her, and when she nodded, he asked, "what are they saying?"

Robin listened in for a moment to the crowd's song, hearing bits and pieces of the phrases, before she could translate for him. 

"They cut me down....but I leap....leap up high," she translated softly, watching the villagers sing in the afternoon sun. "...I am....the light that will never go out.....will never die...I will live in you....if you live in me."

Unnoticed by Robin, his eyes changed as she spoke the translated verses, shifting in the light at her words and as he watched her.

She looked back up at him. "It's a happy song," she noted, and her face wore the wistful smile again. "Full of joy." He had felt it too, despite the language barrier; it was as though the townsfolk rejoiced in their awkward reunion, as if it had some hidden or important meaning to them.

Hours went by as the celebration wore on. Robin and Amon, still humoring the villagers in the attire they had been dressed in, mingled about in the crowds at their leisure. Amon noticed as the day wore on to dusk that he felt more relaxed and at ease, even among the eccentric Italians---but he made sure to not leave her side, lest she be pulled away again by some unruly crowd.

Consistently bombarded by the friendly villagers, they surveyed the outdoor games, observed men and women dancing and feasting, and every now and then obliged the participants and partook of the food and drink themselves. Amon noticed with slight concern that Robin was perhaps partaking a bit too much...he saw her more often than not with a wineglass in her hand, which seemed to be constantly being refilled by passing villagers. He attempted several times to mention it, but stopped himself each time before he could.

_You are her warden,_ he reminded himself. _So why are you having difficulty acting like one?_

A new activity was beginning as the afternoon light had begun to fade, and it was soon determined that the dancing around the Maypole would begin.

Young men and women from the village gathered around the pole that had been fashioned to stand in the center of the village, before the still-blazing Belfire, and each one took one of the brightly-colored ribbons that hung down from the top of the pole. Women took white; men took red.

The musicians, having taken advantage of the brief lull in activity to drink more wine, began to play again, this time a slow, waltzing tune. The dancers around the Maypole took their ribbons in hand and began to do a slow circle, men going one direction and women going the opposite, slowly wrapping the colored ribbons around the length of the pole. As the music slowly began to gain in speed and momentum, so did the dancers with their ribbons, moving faster in time to the music and laughing as they passed each other.

There were still unclaimed ribbons clinging to the top of the pole, and before he knew it two young villagers, a man and a woman, had reached over to grab Robin's arms, effectively pulling her into the circle of dancers. She yelped in surprise; but Amon could see the pleasure written on her face at being included in the dance, and he made no move to hinder her. He watched, fascinated, as she picked up one of the white ribbons as if by instinct, and began to follow in the direction of the other women, pulling her white ribbon along against her shoulder, clasping the end of it to her chest, her green eyes sparkling in the dimming light.

Around she danced, counter-clockwise to the men dancing with their red ribbons, interspersed male-female, male-female....it became a bright blur of activity in the glooming onset of dusk, against the backdrop of the roaring Belfire. 

There was something eerily familiar about it, something that struck a chord within him as he watched the dancing, heard the laughter, felt the thrum of the music playing behind him. It was as if he had witnessed this before...a long time ago....the memory buried beneath years of repression and anger, doubt and remorse.

_They cut me down...but I leap up high._

He felt a stirring within him, the memory opening him up, laying waste to the life he'd led previous to this---this was much more ancient, this recognizable feeling. It was at the same time as raw as an open wound, and as purifying as a clean burning fire.

_I am the light....that will never, ever die._

Robin was laughing, her chestnut hair flying back behind her as she danced around the Maypole. She looked like a bird about to take flight, her delicate feet barely touching the earth....he had never before seen her so vibrant, so carefree, so alive. She caught his eyes as she passed, and through them she seemed to transmit to him all of her joy, all of her hope and faith, all at once as if she had a direct connection to his soul.

He realized then, with a force that was almost gravitational in its power, the true meaning of his conflicted and confused feelings. It was a crushing moment of pure illumination. 

_I will live in you....if you will live in me._

The whirling group dancing around the Maypole had reached a fever pitch, their dancing having gotten closer and closer together as they neared the ends of their ribbons, and they finally let go, flinging themselves out into the awaiting crowd, whose arms were open to receive them in flight.

He saw her flying towards him, propelled by the centrifugal force of the group, and reached to catch her in his arms, holding onto her securely.

She was still laughing, breathless, her hair disheveled all around her and green eyes gleaming in the fading light, and before he could stop himself he had pulled her body taut against him, his face tilting downwards into hers, her breath warm and sweet on his face---

---when at once they were separated, pulled apart by laughing villagers on each side. His temper flared momentarily, before he recovered his composure and realized what he'd almost done.

Guilt momentarily plagued him...but it wasn't enough to stem the sudden flood of desire that he'd felt coursing through his veins.

***

Dusk had fallen, and the celebration continued by the light of the Belfire, still burning brightly from the south end of the square. After having been pulled apart by the townsfolk by their strange works of mischief, he and Robin were reunited again with explicit instructions for the proper code of conduct of "ending ceremonies"....namely, dessert.

Dizzy with the consumption of the wine she'd had throughout the day, and exhilarated from dancing, Robin agreed to the terms of the next activity, translating for Amon's benefit.

"You have to feed me....and I have to feed you," she sloppily translated, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards despite all efforts to squelch her own smile. "The man feeds the woman red fruits, symbolizing the sun, and the woman feeds the man dairy products, white creams and custards...symbolizing the moon," she explained. She gestured as she spoke to a bowl of ripe red fruit, raspberries and strawberries and cherries; as well as bowls of creamy-white marigold custard and chilled cream pies.

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all; that he should find any kind of enjoyment in such a ridiculous display of sentimentality and tradition; yet he did none of that, and instead took a handful of fruit from the bowls that were offered, as the other men did in the circle that had been formed, seated on the cobblestone in front of the Belfire.

In his hands he held raspberries, and he picked them out of the bunch and fed them to her, one by one. She ate them playfully as they dropped from his fingers, her inhibitions loosened from the wine and the comfort of his presence. It seemed to him as though she thought it a game, something fun and exciting.

He selected strawberries of the deepest red from the bowl and fed those to her as well, gleaning a certain satisfaction from seeing her lips adjust according to his will, moving forward to capture the strawberry as he held it just out of her reach.

Then it was the women's turn, each woman in the circle spooning marigold custard or cream pie to feed to her male companion. Robin, in lieu of searching for a spoon, settled on scooping the marigold custard up out of the bowl with her fingers and offering it to him.

Amon moved forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and took her proffered fingers into his mouth, tasting the custard and simultaneously gloating at the astonished expression on her face from the contact with his warm mouth.

_She definitely wasn't expecting **that**,_ he thought to himself with some satisfaction.

She attempted to pull her hand away, her eyes already wide, when he caught her wrist and prevented it, drawing with his mouth on her delicate fingers as if to get every last taste. Her pupils dilated in the glow of the fire, and her mouth opened in a surprised "o" as she felt the softness of his tongue, and the grazing of his teeth.

They repeated the game two more times, each one's turn taking longer than the last, when finally it was interrupted and the group dispersed. Men and women from the circle went off in pairs, and Amon took advantage of the hiatus as a moment to attempt to clear his head, which felt jumbled with incoherent thoughts.

Jana approached them both, kneeling down to their level on the cobblestone.

"I'm heading back," she told them softly, and then directed her next words at Robin. "But before I left, I wanted to tell you something, _bambina_..." She paused, and took her granddaughter into a gentle embrace, whispering fiercely. "_Buon compleanno!_"

Robin's eyes widened in shock as she hugged her grandmother in return. "Nonna...how did you..."

"I tell you before, _bambina_...I knew about you from the time you were born," the older woman said, the fire making her dark green eyes glint in the light, "from the very moment you were born." Jana's eyes glistened. "You are a gift from the Goddess Herself."

Amon sat in silence as he absorbed Robin's reaction to Jana's words....it was her birthday? She had not ever told him when it was; she had never mentioned it.

Realization dawned on him. _Sixteen._ She was officially no longer a child, at least by Japanese standards.

Jana patted him on the shoulder as she stood, murmuring in his ear, her voice carrying just a hint of an undertone of warning. "Be sure and get her home safely, _cacciatore_." With that, she was gone.

***

He found himself half-supporting her, half-carrying her back to the farmhouse by the end of the evening, not long after Jana had made her departure. Exhausted from the activities and from the wine, Robin dragged her feet as he attempted to pull her along on the walk home; and finally frustrated, he gave up, scooping her up against her protestations and carrying her the rest of the way. By the time they had reached the farmhouse, she was snoring softly against his shoulder.

He entered the house, locking the door behind him while balancing her in his arms, and continued to her room, where he deposited her gently on her own bed. Bast, having missed her master and mistress, leapt onto the bed and gently head-butted Robin into consciousness.

"Mmm, Bast," she whispered softly, her eyes half-closed, to his inner amusement. She managed to produce a hand to half-heartedly pet the cat, even as Amon removed her sandals as she lay lengthwise across the bed. 

She finally realized that someone was removing her shoes, and turned over onto her back to look up at him. Half-aware, her chestnut-blonde hair fanned out around her, she reached up for him. "Amon..."

Unable to resist the softness of her voice, he leaned down to her, standing over her on the bed...

She grabbed onto one of his arms, turning over again onto her stomach on the bed, and pulling his arm along with her. He started as he felt himself being tugged down onto the bed next to her. "O-oi!" he whispered sharply.

"Amon," she whispered, her eyes closed as her lips moved, and his ears keened to listen. "Don't leave me."

She said nothing else the entire night, falling back into a deep sleep instantly.

Amon stayed awake for a long time, watching her sleep, his dark thoughts plaguing his mind. It was a while before he finally succumbed to slumber himself, his arm still captive underneath her, his hand clutched tightly in her own.

He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat against his hand, felt her gentle intakes and exhales of breath...and decided that whatever sleep he missed would be worth it in the end.

.

******************************

Next chapter:

Serpent's stone....Of gods and men....A simple mistake. The blinders have been removed as the beacon reveals its divine light. Chapter 8.

* * *

Italian translations:

Buon giorno: Good morning  
Si: yes  
Che cos'è quello?: what is that?  
del primo Maggio: the first day of May  
bambina: child  
per me: for me  
A cose serve questo?: what is this for?  
E' palo di fiori: It is the flower pole  
Tu, bambina: you, child  
Io?: I?  
Il fuoco: the fire  
Grazie: thank you  
sua consorte: your consort  
la festa comincia alle nove: the festival begins at nine o'clock  
a domani: see you tomorrow  
avanti: come  
svegliati!: wake up!  
hai: [Japanese] yes  
andiamo: let's go  
tutti: all, everybody  
Questo qui: this one  
Tua padre va bene se: Is it okay with your father?  
Dove?: where?  
Arciere: Archer  
Spara!: Fire!  
Daijoubou: [Japanese] I'm all right (also can be a question)  
Buon compleanno!: happy birthday!

The folk song with the words "They cut me down..." is actually a pagan folk song called "Lord of the Dance" (thankfully no relation to Michael Flannery's 'Riverdance') and is a traditional song of the Beltaine festival. ^^

Okay, and for you fig lovers out there (that's you, Tsukinoko-san ^^ ), here's a funny website to check out : http: // www. godhatesfigs .com/ . Be sure to take out the spaces when copying it into your browser. I found it on the web and couldn't stop laughing---hopefully no one gets offended and sees it for the silly humor it is. ^^;,

I would love to respond to each and everyone's reviews, since they're all great and really flattering; but I think that would take up too much room! ^^; so I'm just going to say thank you again to everyone, and I hope you keep reading!


	9. Chapter 8: Beacon

A/N : Gomenasai for making you wait, minna. ^^; I took longer than usual to get the next chapter out, and hopefully the next one won't take as long. Thanks, everyone, for your patience!

Okay. On a serious note....regarding the cases of plagiarism on this site that I've seen as of late...I'd just like to start off with a comment. Originality in writing is not easy. I don't know about other authors, but I sweat bullets trying to write this stuff. (Honestly.) You have to think deeply and care about the characters you write. So please, respect my work; respect others' work on here; plagiarism is a crime punishable by law. Don't copy ideas/words from stories that aren't yours. Think of your own ideas. Thank you.

On to the story.

***************************************

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 8: Beacon**

.

* * *

Robin's head ached. It felt as though someone had driven a hot stake into the side of her brain and lodged it there, turning it painfully every few moments. 

She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she knew she was on her stomach in bed, her face half-buried in a pillow, and...she was still fully clothed? This was becoming a strange habit, falling asleep with the previous night's clothes on. As she stirred, moving her arms to attempt to shrug herself out of the dress, she stopped when she realized she had been clutching something tightly in her sleep, and opened her eyes to look down at it...._an arm?_

She slowly turned her eyes to look at the body attached to it....and froze.

Amon was fast asleep beside her, still in the clothes he'd been wearing the night before.

Her mouth gaped open in astonishment, her heart beginning to hammer excitedly in her chest, causing a fresh ache in her skull...what had happened last night? Why was he in her bed? She surreptitiously attempted to pull her hands away from around his wrist, having presumably held it the entire time they had slept....but then stopped herself. He was still asleep...and he had obviously not made a move to extricate his wrist, judging by his sleeping position. 

He was on his side, facing her, in what didn't exactly look like a comfortable arrangement. His shoulder was turned awkwardly to allow her access to his hand and wrist, his other arm curled against his chest in slumber. She looked down and saw that his feet, still in his boots from last night, hung off the edge of the bed. It looked as though he had sacrificed some of his own comfort to ensure that he wouldn't tear his arm away from her grasp in his sleep.

Slowly she relaxed, as recollections of the festival began to come back to her fully awakening mind. The roaring belfire...the dancing...the wine....

She realized with shame that she'd had too much to drink. She hadn't known how much it would affect her...the effect had been so gradual throughout the day that she couldn't have foreseen it. It had not helped that Jana and all of the other villagers had seemed to encourage it. She was surprised Amon hadn't said something to her at some point in the evening.

She recalled looking up into his face after the dancers had broken the circle around the Maypole, having landed in his arms as though she'd almost flown through the air. Despite her mind's fuzziness of most of the evening's details, she remembered the look on his face quite clearly, as it was only the second time---the first having been the night by the ocean weeks ago---that she had ever seen him display so much emotion. He had stared into her face, his close to hers, with eyes that were normally cool and observant having turned into dark pools of liquid silver, shifting and changing as though something heated them beneath the surface. 

Robin shifted imperceptibly as she remembered the look. It was hunger...raw need. It had looked so out of place on him.

With an embarrassed flush, she instantly recalled the dessert game, and feeding each other in the circle before the fire...and her fingers in his mouth as she had fed him the custard. Her actions had been innocent and playful, motivated by good humor...but when he had drawn on her fingers with his mouth, grazing them with his teeth and his tongue, she had realized it was no longer a game. She felt, not without being aware of the irony of her thoughts, that she had been playing with fire.

Robin had been rendered shocked and immobile by the feelings he had stirred within her...curious, excited, and a bit frightened ...but the reaction of hers that had surprised her the most was that _she had wanted him to do it again._

Her face felt hot with a self-conscious burn. It was almost the same as when she had seen him barefoot and shirtless earlier that morning....a similar feeling had come over her. Surely this wasn't normal....or at least wasn't a normal way to think of someone who was your protector, your partner.

She felt slightly defenseless. Amon was ten years older than her. He probably knew how inexperienced and naive she was....particularly of the intricacies involved between men and women....and he seemed to have known exactly what he was doing---and the reaction he would get---when they had been at the festival.

And yet...here he was, lying beside her, allowing her to cling to his arm in sleep. She had rendered herself more vulnerable than she'd ever been before....he could have, she realized, done anything to her that he wished, and she would not have known. Instead, he had probably carried her the rest of the way home, placed her in bed, and given in to her childish request not to leave her, to stay with her. He had stayed with her all night.

She looked up into his sleeping face again upon this awareness, her feelings of vulnerability dissolving. She knew then that he hadn't undressed her the previous night, as she had feared. She had no reason to be wary of him; he hadn't betrayed her trust. He would never do so. She had already known this, deep down, but to see proof of it before her very own eyes made her heart feel as though it were about to burst in her ribcage. 

Robin studied him as he slept; a rare opportunity. In sleep he seemed to lose the hardened expression, the cool mask of indifference, that he normally wore throughout the day. Completely relaxed, with his eyes closed and his dark hair falling across his face, he looked peaceful and gentle....even content.

A small smile played on her lips, as she slowly fell back into sleep, watching him.

When she opened her eyes again an hour later, he was gone, the indentation of the pillow next to hers the only indication that he had been there. She started fully awake, having felt as though she had only closed her eyes for a moment, and in that fleeting blink he had disappeared---but she knew from the feeling of grogginess that she had probably slept on for at least another hour. At least her headache was gone. She moved slowly to sit up in bed, and as she did, she felt something on her wrist, clasped around it. It was smooth and felt like cool metal, and she lifted her arm slightly to look at it.

It was a bracelet, dangling from her pale wrist....embedded in the silver setting were the azure and emerald-intertwined gemstones she'd seen weeks ago at one of the vendor's carts in Sovana.

Ammonite.

She gazed in appreciative wonder at the delicate jewelry, touching the stones reverently with her fingertips, her green eyes suddenly glistening like iridescent emeralds themselves. Despite the unshed tears, she was smiling.

It was only the second birthday present she'd ever received.

***

Amon turned to his laptop, re-connecting to the internet, as he heard the sound of Robin's door opening and closing again from inside his bedroom. She was presumably awake...and despite his efforts to remain indifferent, his ears listened for every sound related to her movements.

He decided to check his email to see if Nagira had responded to his most recent message, sent earlier the same morning after he'd woken up in Robin's room. Upon learning two days ago of the Hunter who had been sent back to SOLOMON from STN-J, Amon himself had become wary, despite his efforts to dissuade Robin that she was the target. Nagira had assured him that the Hunter hadn't been searching for either of them, but there was the possibility that he was mistaken. Perhaps there was some piece of evidence, some subtle nuance, that his half-brother had missed in gathering information. After all, why would the Hunter suddenly return after only two weeks on the job? He felt there was something amiss.

He logged in, once connected, and brought up his email. Nagira had indeed written him back.

**_Otouto-san,_  
I don't know why I have to repeat myself to you, but it seems I must. I told you, the Walled contacts had assured me that the 'bad man' was not after you or your little friend. **

Amon did not gather much comfort from Nagira's hasty dismissal of the subject...he would have to approach it a bit more directly next time so as to get his point across.

**Incidentally, tell her happy belated birthday from Nagira-san. I'm sure she's anxious to know how Mika and I are getting along without her, and the truth is....we miss her and her soba noodles.   
Speaking of which, it appears now that she's legal, isn't she? But then again, I would have expected that to have already crossed your mind, otouto of mine.**

Now he scowled at the laptop screen. He regretted having made any mention at all to Nagira about Robin's birthday...he should have known that it would come back to haunt him at some point.

** In any case...do not worry about your situation. I have been keeping my eyes and ears open---when Mika allows me to actually leave this damn place---and I will continue to do so for your benefit.  
Take it easy, and try to relax, will you?   
Nii-san.**

Amon sat back in his chair, briefly thinking, before replying.

**Nii-san,  
I suggest expanding your horizons and thinking about getting additional contacts to verify your information. Two weeks before returning does not sit well with me. Make sure that you don't disclose any interest in the goings-on of the organization to Yurika while you're at it....yes, Nii-san, I do know you, better than you think I do. She may be a nice girl, but she's _not_ to be trusted with sensitive information.  
One more thing. I want you to start looking into my mother's background for any clues that she may have spent time in any part of Europe, or outside of Japan for that matter, before my birth. I don't care how far you have to look; I need to find some answers to a question I encountered.  
Will contact you again later.  
Otouto.**

***

Robin went into the kitchen after having dressed in her pilgrim's dress, but did not see Jana there, which was unusual. A pot of coffee was on the stove, and she poured herself a mug before going to the window facing the back of the house.

Jana was outside, on her knees in the dirt, pruning the vegetables. Robin carried her mug outside with her through the backdoor, and as she stepped away from the house and headed out towards her grandmother into the garden, she could hear Jana singing softly to herself. Surprisingly, it was in English, and Robin listened attentively from where she stood as she picked up words in the song.

"_...While though the tempest loudly roars....I hear the truth, it liveth...And though the darkness 'round me close....songs in the night it giveth..._

"No storm can shake my inmost calm...while to that rock I'm clinging....since love is lord of heaven and earth.....how can I keep...from singing?...."

Jana sat back on her heels, the knees of her workpants in the dirt, and breathed a sigh of completion as she surveyed her work. She suddenly was aware of Robin standing behind her a ways off in the distance, and she turned to her granddaughter, smiling.

"_Buon giorno, bambina,_" she called out to Robin, waving her over. The young witch approached her, still holding the coffee, a half-smile gracing her lips.

"Nonna, what were you singing just now?" she asked softly. "It was beautiful."

"A very old _canto popolare_, bambina...one that I was taught in my childhood," she explained, turning back to the plants momentarily. "An old, traditional song of endurance...of finding joy in the midst of hardship....having faith when things are crumbling and falling apart around you." Robin thought her voice had become very soft and wistful, and she looked down at Jana curiously.

The older woman suddenly turned back and smiled up at her granddaughter, shading her eyes in the bright morning light as she looked her over. "You recovered from last night, _vedo_."

Robin ducked her head, slightly discomfited. "_Mi scusi,_" she offered softly. "I hope I didn't embarrass you---"

"It was not _me_ who was embarrassed, _bambina_," Jana retorted smartly, and Robin's already pink blush deepened. "But there was certainly no harm done." She smiled up at the young woman, at the same time displaying a thoughtful expression. "I _do_ think he enjoyed himself." Robin digested her grandmother's comments, her facial color returning to its normal hue. 

Jana suddenly noticed the bracelet that the young woman was wearing, hanging gracefully over the edge of the long sleeve of her pilgrim's smock. She took Robin's hand and held it closer so that she could see its detail. "Robin," she whispered, awed, and looked up into her granddaughter's eyes again. She was still smiling; this time with a knowing glint in her dark green eyes. "_E' bella_. A present?"

Robin nodded, smiling. "_Si_." 

Jana's eyes were smug, at least to Robin's observation. "_Sa giudicare,_" she whispered softly. The young witch looked at her curiously.

"Do you know what stone this is, _bambina?_" Jana asked, and Robin explained to her the name given by the vendor in the town square.

"_Gemma di la serpe,_" Jana confirmed, nodding. "These are actually fossilized remains of an ancient sea creature, who lived millions of years ago...is the oldest known gemstone in existence." Jana went on, undaunted by the stunned expression on the young witch's face. "It is believed that because it is such an old stone, it has absorbed energy from universal forces over time." She traced the fossilized spiral markings in the center of one of the stones delicately. "See how it curves inward in a spiral, _vedi?_ Not unlike the horns of a ram, _no?_" She took her hand away from her granddaughter's to study her reaction.

A flash of recognition went through Robin's mind like lightning. 

"I think Amon will want to go into Siena today," Jana said, switching the subjects abruptly and averting the focus from the stones. She turned briefly back to the plants again before her, patting the earth around them to make sure they were well planted. "Perhaps you will get a chance to visit _la cattedrale_, this afternoon."

"_Veramente?_" Robin asked, somewhat excitedly. "You know this, Nonna?"

"_Si,_" she answered, squinting back up at the girl in the sunlight. "You should try to find out what you can about it in relation to the story of Aradia."

Robin nodded dutifully. She would have to hurry and bathe soon then, since she was not able to do so the previous night, and she knew from habit that it didn't take Amon long to get ready to leave.

"I should get ready then," she began, and had already turned back towards the direction of the house, when Jana reached out for her, taking her arm with gentleness.

"_Bambina,_" she said imploringly, and the look in her eyes stopped Robin dead in her tracks, despite her grandmother's gentle smile. 

"_Fare attenzione._"

The concern she saw in the older woman's eyes seemed out of place...but nevertheless, Robin nodded.

***

Robin reentered the house, making her way down the hallway and past Amon's closed door. She glanced at it, hesitating ever so slightly, as she passed.

_Should I..._

She walked on, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her. But instead of immediately starting to run her bathwater, she pressed herself up against the closed door, listening.

In a moment, she heard his door open, and a still, lengthy pause before his footsteps sounded going down the hall.

She stayed against the door for a moment longer before allowing the escape of a near-silent sigh, and leaning to turn the faucet on the bathtub.

***

Amon found Jana back inside the house, having dusted the dirt from the garden off of her workpants as she went tidying up the kitchen. Breakfast had been minimal today; instead of cooking as she usually did, Jana had brought home one of the sweet Beltaine cakes from the previous night's festival, and had sliced it and placed it out on the kitchen table.

Amon helped himself to a slice of the cake, as his eyes shifted to look over to Jana at the stove.

"_Buon giorno,_ Amon," she said jovially. "Let me fix you a cup of coffee."

He watched her carefully as she went about it. "_Grazie._" He knew that she had witnessed some of his interaction with Robin the previous night, particularly at moments that he had considered himself to have acted without discretion, and he wondered what she thought of what she had seen. Surely she was protective of Robin, and didn't approve.

Then again...this was the woman whom upon their arrival had been expecting he and her fifteen-year-old granddaughter to share a bedroom, with a single bed.

"You enjoyed yourself last night," she said nonchalantly, appearing as though her concentration was on the task before her; but he knew she was watching his reactions out of the corner of her eye. He realized it wasn't a question....more of an observation.

His face and his voice both remained neutral as he tore a piece from the slice in his hand and ate it, still standing near the table as if sitting down might be too confining. "You believe so," he said.

"_Si,_" she responded. She brought the cup of coffee over and handed it to him, just as he had finished the slice of cake he'd been eating. She stood back as he accepted it, still with her hint of a smile. "It was quite obvious."

He narrowed his eyes slightly in displeasure at her words, which seemed to cause her even more mirth. 

He turned to look out the window adjacent to them, sipping his coffee before he spoke. "That was a bizarre festival."

"Ah...Tana's Day," Jana nodded, as she stood next to him. "I'm afraid you were inducted into it before you knew much about it."

He nodded, still facing out the window. It wasn't as if he'd had much choice in the matter.

_But you didn't resist very much, did you,_ his conscience reminded him.

"Beltaine is not only about spring turning to summer; but it is a celebration of fertility, of union....of the Goddess and her _Consorte_." She put a strange emphasis on the word. "The Maypole dance itself represents that also....the ribbons being wrapped around the pole symbolizing the act of their physical union...the dancing around forms a conduit of magickal energy."

The description of the Maypole as a conduit of energy did not entirely surprise him. He distinctly remembered the primitive, primal feelings that had accompanied the watching of the ritual, the strange memory it had stirred inside of him....as well as how watching Robin dancing had stirred other things.

_The act of their physical union._ The words seemed to have a more lascivious connotation in his disobedient mind.

He blinked as an attempt to snap himself out of the reverie. "Why did they feel the need to dress us in such costumes?"

"They believe in the Beltaine tradition of _Regina di Maggio_, Queen of the May...who wears a crown of fresh flowers, and is chosen at the start of the festival along with the May King," Jana explained. "The basis of this is the wedding of the Goddess and her Consort, the joining of the moon and sun in blessing the earth....the Goddess is known by many names, the God by such names as Cernunnos, the Green Man, the God of the Hunt..."

"God of the Hunt?" Amon's mind flashed back instantaneously to the festival, and the eccentric Sovanan villagers who had begun to chant similar words after he'd bested the men at the archery competition. Something nagged at the edges of his awareness.

Jana watched him for a moment longer before speaking again. She smirked as she said, "You're right....is a silly festival....strange traditions, _si?_" She turned back to go to the sink and began to wash dishes, facing away from him. "I thought you might be going into Siena today."

He looked at her, slightly startled. "You know that I don't believe it's safe for Robin to---"

"You might find what you are looking for there," she said with a certainty to her voice that reminded him of her ominous message delivered weeks ago. 

His curiosity was piqued. "Find what?"

She turned back to glance at him briefly. "Someone who might be able to help you with the contents of the journal." She turned casually back to the sink.

"Someone in Siena?" he asked, unbelieving, and she nodded. "Who?" he demanded.

"The place that you designated as being sacred to SOLOMON....there will be a person there who will be willing to share their secrets."

"The cathedral," he whispered, almost to himself. There had been almost no relevant information online about Mario Benedetto, and attempts at disclosing relatives of the scientist had proved unsuccessful. If the cathedral was their best hope, he was willing to look into it.

"_Si._" She looked at him again as she stood poised over the sink. "You should not delay, however...I am not aware of how much longer the place may be secure from SOLOMON. They are also looking for it." 

He knew she meant the journal. For some strange reason he found himself believing in her words to the fullest extent, as though she were the recipient of some important message that he would otherwise not be able to hear. "How long do we have?"

Her voice was more hushed. "_Giorni._"

He nodded his dark head, resolute. "We will leave today then."

***

Robin had again changed her appearance for the trip, wearing her hair loose once more about her shoulders; and she was again wearing an outfit that was not from her wardrobe, one of Maria's pale peach-colored cardigan sweaters. She met his eyes and nodded, as an assent to being ready to leave. She knew that she would probably be able to elucidate the purpose of their trip later on.

Amon noticed with some uneasiness that the skirt she wore was shorter than before, this time only reaching to the end of her knees, baring her delicate calves to his view. It was getting progressively harder to ignore his physical responses to her...but he observed, with a strange sense of satisfaction, the bracelet on her wrist.

As they left, bidding goodbye to Jana at the door, Bast appeared and began to uncharacteristically meow, as if she protested their leaving.

Robin knelt to pet the cat, in an attempt to soothe her, but Bast seemed inconsolable. She made an attempt to run past her and Amon, and out the door; but Amon blocked her path with his boot.

"_Non, Bast,_" Robin soothed, picking up the silver cat and placing her in Jana's arms. "_Fermarsi._" It occurred to her that perhaps an Italian cat only obeyed orders in Italian.

Bast squirmed in Jana's arms, as Robin and Amon bid Jana their goodbyes for the day and headed out the door.

Once the door was closed, the distressed cat jumped free and leapt onto the kitchen table, to gain access to the window and watch her departing master and mistress. She began to howl, her paws up on the glass; a wailing sound that made Jana's heart ache.

Jana sighed, turning from the window.

***

Amon and Robin had no problem catching a ride from Sovana to Siena; it seemed even as they approached the _via di Mezzo_ that there were people from the village waiting for them, as though they had anticipated their arrival. In no time they had procured a ride, the driver telling them that he would gladly wait for them in _il Campo_ while they attended to the business they had in Siena, to allow them a ride back. They gratefully accepted.

The drive was uneventful as usual, and as a result Robin found herself attempting to draw him into conversation. "_Grazie,_" she told him quietly, as they rode in the back of the truck of the driver who had been kind enough to be their chauffeur. 

"_Come?_" he asked, caught off guard.

She lifted her wrist slightly to display the bracelet in response, with a degree of shyness. "_E' bella._"

As a blatant attempt to change the subject, he looked away and said, "Jana told me we may be able to find some things out about the journal from someone in Siena."

Robin quickly disguised the flash of hurt she felt at his evasiveness. It didn't seem that he needed to hide from her still, but his discomfort was obvious. _Perhaps he is resentful for having kept him in my room all night,_ she thought with guilt.

"_Veramente?_" she asked neutrally in response. "What are you looking to find about the journal?"

He realized he hadn't shared his uncertain finding yet. "I'm not sure, but there was a reference to someone's name...in the journal. I want to find if there was any connection or if it was just coincidence." He looked out at the landscape quickly passing them by, his eyes growing distant.

She waited a beat. "Amon." He glanced back at her again upon the soft sound of his name, and he could see in her eyes that she was trying as gently as she could to get to the source of what lay between them. 

"_Si?_" he asked quietly, unable to resist.

"_Mi scusi._" Her eyes were sad, and a bit serious. "For making you stay with me the entire night."

He shook his head quickly, his response curt. "_Va bene._" 

"You looked very uncomfortable..." she argued, refusing to believe that he hadn't suffered slightly.

"_Non._" It was a simple negative statement; but while it was gentle, his steel gray eyes told her that there would be no further argument on the subject.

She ducked her chestnut-gold head delicately. "_Inoltre...grazie,_" she said again. "For taking care of me." 

He heard the soft shame in her voice and knew that she was referring to having been inebriated...he inwardly cringed as he remembered his hesitation the previous night.

He stared at the floor of the truck, his dark hair falling against his face. "You don't need to thank me for that."

Robin watched him out of the corners of her eyes.

_I had thought I didn't....but sometimes I'm still not sure, Amon._

***

After their arrival at _il Campo_, they left the driver and headed out in the direction of the cathedral. Robin had not asked him if that was their destination, but somehow she had assumed it; and as she saw the majestic domes of the gothic church come into view, she felt her pulse quicken with excitement and energy.

Secrets regarding her heritage and her powers were buried here....of that she was certain. It was only a question of how they would obtain those secrets.

"Stay close to me," Amon commanded softly, as they approached the steps leading into the cathedral. "If you see or feel anything out of place, or remotely suspicious...I want you to run; do not try to fight. _Omae wakaru no?_"

"_Demo..._" she began, but his stern gaze silenced her. "_Wakatta,_" she finished, her eyes downcast.

They entered the lobby of the cathedral, the light fading into darkness as they made their way inside. Robin was instantly overwhelmed with the familiar smells of old wood and marble, the scents stirring her perception and memory...

_... ...wandering between Christian shrines....sought the old places of power.... _

She snapped back into reality, as she realized someone was coming towards them. A priest, dressed in long robes, approached them; his aged, concerned face looking at both of them in a mixture of benevolence and curiosity.

Despite his hesitance at seeing one of the Church's clergymen, Amon stepped forward to intercept the man. "_Buon giorno,_" he began, and the priest bowed his head in response.

"_Benevento,_" the priest answered, looking from one to the other, and his eyes settled for a longer moment on Robin. Amon detected a flicker of recognition in his eyes, before the priest composed his features and addressed them both again. "_Sono Padre Nicola. Posso esserle utile?_"

Robin bowed her head in deference, but she did not kneel before the priest, Amon noticed, as he knew she had done with Juliano. Then again, Juliano was more than just a teacher and a priest to her.

"_Per favore, Padre,_" she began in her soft voice, "we have some questions to ask of you."

"Is there somewhere we may talk?" Amon asked him politely, and the priest nodded in surprise, gesturing them to a small room at the side of the lobby.

Once in private, having closed the door behind him, Father Nicola turned to them with interest. "_Si?_" he asked patiently.

"My younger sister and I," began Amon, and Robin glanced at him quickly in surprise at his choice of words, "are looking for information relating to a man named Mario Benedetto, a scientist," he said. "We are distant relatives of his, and wish to know where we may get in contact with either he or people who were associated with him."

The priest's eyes were alight with recognition, but also with another emotion which Amon found particularly interesting---fear.

"_Perche?_" Father Nicola whispered, looking from one to the other of them. "You are with....that organization?"

Both Robin and Amon reacted to his words, as they both simultaneously grasped the priest's meaning. He was speaking of SOLOMON.

Amon considered his answer for a long moment, aware of the gun holstered in his jacket. He would not hesitate to make use of it...even if it meant murdering a priest in the house of God.

He was willing to go that far.

"_No,_" he answered, "I don't know what you mean." He was taking a risky plunge, and Robin looked at him with trepidation.

Father Nicola seemed to imperceptibly relax, and spoke again.

"_Scusi_...I am overly cautious sometimes where certain things are concerned." He produced a slip of paper, and leaned towards a desk, grabbing a pen and beginning to write. Amon and Robin exchanged glances, slightly relieved but at the same time still wary.

"I know the Benedetto family for a long time," Father Nicola said. "They came here to pray often. This was their last known address." He finished writing and gave the slip of paper to Amon, who looked at it briefly before folding it and tucking it in his pocket.

"Do come back and let me know how he is doing?" Father Nicola asked, his expression concerned. "I have not seen him for years."

"When was the last time you'd seen him?" Amon inquired.

Father Nicola bowed his head momentarily in thought before he responded. "I believe it has been fifteen or sixteen years." 

Amon's eyes narrowed. _Approximately the same time Toudou disappeared._

Robin spoke up at Amon's side. "_Padre_...we would also like to ask you about _la cattedrale_." She leaned forward as she saw that Amon was going to allow her to ask her questions, and she continued, "What do you know about the history behind it?"

The priest turned his eyes on her again, and once more Amon noted some spark of recollection in his dark brown eyes. 

"Ah....well, is very old....dating back to mid thirteenth century," Father Nicola offered, looking at her more closely. "What is it exactly you want to know?"

"Was there...any evidence that it was destroyed...at some point around that time?" Robin asked, and Amon realized what she was after.

"Now that you mention it," the priest said, "I do recall a story of how both the church and the tower were destroyed, only one hundred years after construction....something about a terrible windstorm." He shook his head fondly. "Some people wonder if it was a myth...but there is still part of the tower that is missing, that was never completed, even though it has been over seven hundred years since rebuilding."

Robin looked as though she wanted to ask more questions, but Amon's uneasiness was increasing. Despite the friendliness of the priest, he sensed somehow that it was not wise to linger in the cathedral.

"_Molto grazie,_" he said to Father Nicola, putting an encouraging hand on Robin's back to steer her out of the room, even as she made a slight noise of protest. "You've been very helpful."

Father Nicola leaned out the door as they departed, calling after them, "_Buona fortuna._" He watched their departing forms, for several moments.

***

They headed back to _il Campo_, presumably to find directions to the address given to Amon by the priest. Robin was slightly chagrined at having been interrupted in her dialogue with the priest, but Amon had seemed immensely relieved when they had left the cathedral, which relaxed her. Surprisingly, he'd even acquiesced to stopping by an outdoor cafe to eat, before heading out to find information on Benedetto. It had been several hours since the small breakfast they'd eaten, and Robin was glad for the temporary change in his demeanor.

They sat outside, in the cool spring air, drinking espresso after their lunch of salad and pasta. The food had been good, but not as flavorful as the meals Jana prepared. Robin hoped that when she returned to her grandmother's that her appetite would automatically be resuscitated---she didn't want to have to admit to Jana that they'd eaten anything other than her excellent cooking.

"Amon?" she asked, setting down her espresso, and he looked up at her over his own cup.

"Mm?"

"Were you surprised that a priest such as Father Nicola was afraid of SOLOMON?" she asked.

He lowered his cup, his eyes thoughtful. "_Si._" Especially in a region so close to SOLOMON headquarters, he had thought it very strange that the priest had reacted that way at the mention of "the organization".

"Perhaps," Robin suggested, "he is like Toudou---a sympathizer."

Amon supposed it was true. There were certainly enough people in Tuscany that he'd met already to convince him that Witches were not looked upon the same way in every part of the world.

She was lost in thought as she played with her espresso cup, running her finger along the edge as she spoke. "I find myself wondering what the similarities are between the gods that Toudou mentioned, that were worshipped so long ago...and Witches," she said, quietly. "How did the gods rule people? Were they able to live side-by-side with humans who worshipped them?" She paused again, before she added softly, "Did the people fear them....or love them?"

She looked back up at him. "I know you said that you still don't know if you accept the existence of Witches, Amon," she said solemnly, and he held her gaze, mesmerized by the emerald eyes that fixed him. "But I wonder, if SOLOMON had never existed...would it be possible for Witches and humans to live among each other?"

He frowned to himself as he digested his answer to her.

"I don't know the answer to that yet," he responded quietly. "But I believe it would depend on the hearts of each....Witches and humans." 

"Which are not so different from each other, _honto ni,_" she reminded him.

Amon found himself reluctant to agree with her statement, but reluctant to dispute it. _After all....where does your own lie?_

He watched as she played distractedly with her bracelet, running her fingers over the smooth stones without conscious thought. "Why did you not mention your birthday?" he asked quietly, and she looked surprised at his direct comment.

A strange sadness came into her eyes. "Growing up in the monastery....Juliano made me aware of when it was, when I was young...but it was never something he encouraged to celebrate." 

"Because you were Toudou's....creation." He hated the word 'experiment' now.

She nodded. "I did not realize until that night he came to Raven's Flat, why he was so distant with me...yet he cared enough to spare my life." 

"Jana knew this also," Amon noted, his voice as quiet as hers. "It may be possible that she played a role in protecting you, after your birth, somehow."

The thought had not occurred to her, and she sat as he paid the bill, thinking.

***

They left the small cafe, after having left money on the table for their meals, and headed out into the street. The table sat empty, the chairs askew, with a single candle on the table lit in the afternoon light.

"_Dove?_" she asked, quickening her steps to keep time with his along the street, and watched as he extracted the slip of paper from his pocket.

"We need to find some street maps, that will enable us to track down the address," he said, mentally cursing the fact that he hadn't brought his portable laptop with them. It would have been cumbersome to carry it with them, though---

Robin's shrill shriek made the blood run in his veins like ice.

She was on the pavement, holding her ankle, her footing having slipped out from under her. He had seen her fall out of the corner of his eye, but his reflexes had not been fast enough to grab her arm as he had last time.

He looked down at her on the sidewalk, as she grimaced, rubbing her ankle and pouting sullenly. It was a moment that reminded him that she was still sixteen years old, after a conversation that had sounded as though it had come from the lips of someone twice her age.

"_Daijoubou?_" he asked quickly, but when he saw her embarrassed face, he knew there was no serious injury.

Despite his efforts to appear sympathetic, a smirk threatened at the corner of his lips. "I knew that I should have gotten you new shoes instead," he said softly, as though he were chastising himself, and Robin looked up, stunned that he was indirectly referencing his birthday gift to her. He bent at the waist, extending his hand, prepared to kneel down and help her to her feet.

A shot rang out, the bullet slamming into the concrete wall to his right, at the height his head had been at before he had lowered it.

On instinct, Amon threw himself onto the ground, covering her body with his own. 

People on the street and passersby screamed in fear, ducking their heads and running for cover, as a rain of bullets suddenly began to hail down on the sidewalk where they had been walking. Barely protected by planters and stone, Amon crawled along the pavement, still shielding Robin with his body and his arm over her head, until they reached the cover of a solid brick bench by the edge of the curb.

"Amon," she cried out, her words muffled, but he shushed her and reached back to remove his gun from his holster. 

"Stay down."

From around the corner of the bench, he could see in the direction from where the shots had come, across the street....

Suddenly someone was running, half a block ahead, darting into an alley along the side of a nearby building. His keen eyesight made out a gun in the suspect's hands.

Amon jumped to his feet. "Robin, _tomaru!_" he barked, loading the chamber in his pistol as he began to run after the shooter.

"Amon!" Her frightened voice rang out after him.

He charged down the street, the edges of his coat flying out behind him, and rounded the corner that he'd seen the man take. Further down the alley, which was a dead end, he confronted the shooter. It looked as though he had ditched his weapon, and was attempting to climb over a high wooden gate that led to another part of the alley.

Amon fired a warning shot near the man's leg, and the suspect froze in fear, turning to look back at his attacker.

"Climb down off the gate," Amon ordered, his voice rigid with barely restrained anger, his weapon aimed at the man's head. "Show me your hands."

The man began to obediently climb back down, looking back at Amon as he did, but halfway down his eyes widened and he stopped again.

Amon whirled around to see someone standing not thirty feet away behind him, closer to the entrance of the alley. He fired several shots from his pistol at the figure, a man clothed in a long, dark gray jacket---but the bullets bounced off, ineffectively.

A Witch. Or more precisely, a Hunter.

The man in the gray jacket inclined his head slightly, his eyes focused on Amon, and a blast of kinetic energy surged forth, hitting Amon square in the chest and knocking him against the opposite wall. His pistol clattered to the ground.

He realized as the energy pummeled his body once again...._without the Orbo I'm defenseless._

The Hunter slowly walked towards him, continuing to assault him with the waves of power that he unleashed upon his enemy. Amon struggled for breath as he was thrown back against the opposite wall, once again winded.

"You will have to make a choice, Amon," the Hunter spoke, his voice low and malicious. 

"Ch-choice?" Amon sputtered, barely able to get the words out. It sounded eerily like the ultimatum that he had been presented with weeks ago by Jana.

The Hunter came close enough to stand within five feet of him, still not touching him, but winding him nevertheless. He inclined his head again, and Amon felt the breath being choked out of him, like something was crushing his lungs.

A burst of flame suddenly blocked the Hunter's blast of power, covering Amon like a fiery barrier.

Amon raised his head wearily from where he had slumped onto the ground against the wall, as the angry Hunter turned to the entrance of the alley. He looked stunned by the emergence of flame.

Robin stood in the alley, one hand leaning on the wall to support her sprained ankle.

"_Don't touch him,_" she warned softly, her eyes alight with the force of her Craft.

The Hunter's eyes became frenzied with anger, as he attempted to unleash his kinetic powers against her in full force, but again she repelled it with her fire. His eyes were disbelieving. "_Come?!_" he cried.

She focused on him, allowing her Craft to come to light, and her chestnut hair whipped in the air around her. Amon saw, with stunned amazement, that she was not wearing her glasses.

A spark of flame ignited on all sides around the SOLOMON agent, and he found himself surrounded by a circle of fire. He clenched his teeth in anger, trying again to direct his powers at her, but to no avail. 

She walked towards him slowly, favoring her ankle. "How did you find us?"

With fury the Hunter realized he would not get anywhere attacking the girl, and he again turned his eyes on the weakened Amon, still leaning up against the wall.

Amon began to choke from the force constricting his throat. "_Iiya!_" Robin whispered harshly. 

In a flash of flame and heat, the screaming Hunter suddenly disappeared.

Robin made her way, limping slightly, over to Amon. He was breathing heavily, recovering from the attack, stunned and at the same time, mortified.

_I can't protect her._

She helped him to stand, allowing him to lean on her despite her tender ankle. They made their way wordlessly out of the alley and to where they could procure a ride out of Siena.

***

Their injuries were temporary, and by the time they got back to Jana's house, Amon had recovered enough to storm through the front door.

Jana watched with wide eyes, as he barged in, his eyes dark and wild. "_Cosa succede?_" she asked, panic coming to her voice.

"Nonna, we were attacked in Siena," Robin explained breathlessly, still favoring her ankle slightly, but there seemed to be no real damage to it. She followed Amon inside, as he stormed into his room and began rummaging through his things. Jana followed along behind her.

"We are leaving Italy. _Right now._ I am going to get us on the first plane out of here." There seemed to be no room for debate by the tone of his voice.

"Don't go," Jana whispered, her green eyes filled with sadness.

"Amon, we don't know how they found us---" Robin was starting to say, but he cut her off angrily.

"It was _him,_" Amon seethed, "the priest we met with. He deceived us....he was likely in league with SOLOMON all along."

"But Amon," Robin tried to reason, watching as he threw clothing into his travel bag hurriedly, "you saw his face---he was _afraid_. He would not have talked to us if he'd thought we were with them."

"Don't go," Jana was still whispering, her voice shaky and pleading.

Amon turned on Jana, nearly livid with anger. "You want us to _stay here_ and be captured by SOLOMON? They won't spare you either," he warned, nearly spitting the words. 

He almost regretted his words when he felt Robin's hand on his arm, both soothing and restraining; and softened his next comments to Jana. "You will not like what they do to Witches."

"You will not be harmed by SOLOMON while you are here, in my house," Jana whispered, her eyes glazed with sadness, but with a firm resolve. 

"And why not?"

She looked at him defiantly, despite the tears in her eyes. "Because I will protect you." 

Amon shook his head, his expression dark. "You do not have the power, Jana," he told her sternly, but to his surprise she scoffed.

"Haven't I?" she asked, sounding as though she were offended. "I have been protecting you both, shielding the use of your power, _bambina,_" she looked at Robin, "since you have arrived here."

Amon was strangely silent, as Robin asked, "Shielding?"

"Your powers are a signal, a beacon, to anyone who may be watching and who knows what to look for," Jana said firmly to her granddaughter. "I have been shielding your powers with my own protection, _bambina,_ just as I protected Maria....but only as long as you are in Sovana. Apparently, my powers cannot extend beyond that boundary." Her eyes were sad again.

Robin covered her mouth with her hand. "The candle....at the cafe...." She looked fearfully at Amon, who looked torn between anger and grief.

"_Per favore,_" Jana pleaded, tears spilling from her eyes, "do not leave. I promise, no harm will come to you, while you are here."

Robin took her grandmother in her arms, holding her tightly in a comforting hug, while her eyes met Amon's pleadingly over Jana's shoulder.

He brooded as he realized the storm was coming....and she would have them remain there....in the eye of it.

.

* * *

Next chapter:

Hiding in the darkness....Fiery legacy....An enduring song. The Ancient Ones obey the call. Chapter 9.

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Okay. I said there were going to be fewer translations, didn't I? I lied. Please don't kill me. ^^;

Otouto: [Japanese] younger brother: this does not usually have the honorific title '-san' after it, but we all know what a brat Nagira-san can be. ^.~  
Nii-san: [Japanese] older brother  
Buon giorno, bambina: Good morning, child  
canto popolare: folk song  
vedo: I see  
Mi scusi: I'm sorry, excuse me  
E' bella: it is beautiful  
Sa giudicare: he has good judgement  
gemma di la serpe: serpent's gemstone  
vedi: you see  
Veramente: really?  
Fare attenzione: Be careful  
consorte: consort  
giorni: days  
fermarsi: stay behind  
Grazie: thank you  
Come?: what?  
Va bene: It's all right  
Inoltre: also  
Omae wakaru no: [Japanese] Do you understand?  
Demo: [Japanese] but  
Wakatta: [Japanese] Understood  
Benevento: Welcome  
Sono Padre Nicola: I am Father Nicolas  
posso esserle utile: can I be of any assistance  
la cattedrale: the cathedral  
perche: why  
buona fortuna: good luck!  
honto ni: [Japanese] really, truly  
dove: where  
tomaru: [Japanese] remain, stay in one place  
cosa succede: what's going on?

"How Can I Keep From Singing?" is a traditional Shaker folk song. I have no idea exactly how old of a song it really is, or who originally wrote it....but if you'd like to listen to an incredibly ethereal version of it, you can find it on Enya's _Shepherd Moons_ CD. Despite it being Shaker, I think this song applies beautifully to pagan religions as well. Thanks to **Vitani Fyrewolf** (yayyy! You updated! ^^) for pointing out something about Enya's music that I'd missed, even having been a fan all these years! ^^

Another huge thank you to Vitani for clarification of the "visibility" of the use of one's Craft. It's mentioned very vaguely in the series how Witches are found other than SOLOMON's database (i.e. the "watchers"), but Vit explained it much better for me. ^^ Thankees!!

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	10. Chapter 9: Lare

A/N : Back again! I'm glad you guys are still enjoying it---as evident from the amazing reviews---and don't worry, there will be more. The story isn't finished yet.

Thanks once again to everyone reading and reviewing; as well as to Vitani, Kala, Wendy, Scary Kitty, Nextgenuni, Rogue, Jusuchina, Sakura, and all the others over at UnS. You guys rock---thanks for helping me get over my emotional hurdle that I had to cross this week. ^^ More detailed author's note at end!

Enjoy!

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**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 9: Lare**

.

* * *

None of the three spoke for a long period of time during the remainder of the day. 

The late afternoon found Robin and her grandmother in the kitchen, Jana having made them coffee to give herself something to do; and the two women sat at the kitchen table, talking softly, their heads bowed. Amon had retreated outside, to the privacy of the backyard, wandering amongst the oak and rowan trees and trying to collect his thoughts. He had kept his anger and frustration in check as best he could, given the circumstances.

They were being Hunted.

It seemed to him that it was only a question of time before SOLOMON would track them to Sovana, especially since they had detected Robin's powers so quickly in Siena, within moments of her having lit the tabletop candle at the small cafe. They had obviously been in Siena already for a while, and had been waiting for some sort of signal. 

Robin's powers had been the beacon that had alerted the Hunter to their presence.

And yet...he found that he could not be angry with her, even though she had given away their location. 

Neither of them had had any idea that SOLOMON had been able to track the use of the Craft in such a way. He had thought the database was the single source by which the organization uncovered Craft-users...the genetic link between ancestors and descendants that labeled people as either Seeds, or Witches. Apparently they had other methods, such as supernatural powers, as well. 

The one thing that had confused him about the attack, that had seemed to not make much sense to him, was the Hunter's astonishment at witnessing Robin's Craft. It was as if Robin's power had completely caught him by surprise. Hadn't he been expecting her to be that powerful, knowing what she was....?

Amon glanced back reluctantly towards the farmhouse. They weren't safe here....he was convinced that Jana overestimated her own powers, that she couldn't protect them from what was to come. But it was also clear to him that Robin's intent was not to leave, either, at this point. Whether it was because of her obstinacy---something he'd seen in her before---or something else, he didn't know. Perhaps she feared leading SOLOMON to Sovana, and leaving her grandmother, whose powers were obviously not as formidable, unguarded.

What disturbed him the most was the knowledge that _he_ would not be able to help her---or Jana---at all. Against humans, he was competent....

He clenched his fists in frustration. Against Witches and Hunters...he was powerless.

***

Robin stared forlornly into her coffee as she sat across the table from her grandmother.

She was tormented. She had betrayed their location to SOLOMON, and now the Hunt would truly begin. There was nowhere to go---they could not run, and leave Jana behind to face the Hunters alone. And her grandmother would not leave Sovana---she was sure of it.

Jana's eyes softened sadly, as she regarded her granddaughter. "_Bambina...._you have to stop thinking that this is your fault. You did not know they would be Hunting you this way."

Robin's eyes remained downcast. "But if I had not used my Craft..." she replied softly.

"_No,_" Jana said sternly, and Robin's head jerked up, surprised by her grandmother's forceful tone. "You should _never_ think that way, Robin," the older woman reproached her gently. "Your powers were given to you for a reason...and you must not ignore that reason."

Robin blinked slowly in confusion as she regarded her grandmother. _Eve of Witches._ That was what Toudou had called her in the recorded video data unearthed by Zaizen in Factory. But what did it really mean? How was she to 'restore the legacy of Witches', if she would be continually Hunted by SOLOMON? 

"My power is to carry on the legacy....that is what Toudou said," she said hesitantly, but again Jana was shaking her head.

"Your Craft was given to you for more than just that, _bambina,_" her grandmother said, still with the stern glint in her dark green eyes. "And you cannot achieve your full potential if you do not use your powers to their utmost extent."

"_Full potential?_" Robin repeated, her expression quizzical. "_Che cos'è quello?_"

Jana's eyes grew even more serious, as though she were about to explain something of dire importance; when they were both distracted by Amon re-entering the house.

He entered through the back door into the kitchen, hesitating briefly before passing the two women at the table, his face grim and his eyes dark. Robin watched solemnly as he walked past, his boots clattering on the tiled floor of the kitchen as he headed to his bedroom. Her eyes followed him until his form had disappeared from the room.

Jana saw that Robin was no longer involved in the conversation, her attention having shifted completely to her partner, and the older woman nodded to herself imperceptibly. The answer to Robin's question would wait.

The young chestnut-haired witch turned to face her grandmother, standing slowly out of her chair. "Nonna...._scusi_..." she whispered softly, her eyes returning again to the empty hallway. She left the table and headed towards the hallway, presumably following her reticent partner.

Her grandmother looked on after, her dark green eyes saddened.

***

Robin brushed her knuckles cautiously against the partially-open door to his bedroom, her hand pushing the door open slightly wider. "Amon?" she asked softly, hesitant to enter.

He was seated at the desk, already booting up his laptop computer. His eyes flicked upwards at the sound of his name, to see her standing in the open door, but quickly returned to the screen. "_Nani,_" he responded neutrally.

Robin felt her heart sinking. There was a familiar edge to his voice; one that reminded her of the way he had been during the first couple of days in Sovana. The gentle attempts at speaking Italian had given way to the abrupt, staccato Japanese that she had previously been used to hearing from him. It was suddenly as though the last few weeks had never happened; he was once more emotionally remote and in control of his expressions. The mask was in place.

He was the Hunter, again....cold and distant.

Nevertheless, she straightened her spine and entered the room, refusing to allow him to intimidate her. She approached the desk slowly, standing off to his side and behind him, lacing her fingers together in front of her by force of habit.

"Amon," she asked again, softly but with resolve and an underlying hurt, "are you angry with me?"

He turned his head slowly from the screen, revealing his profile to her. 

"_Iiya,_" he said finally, and she briefly thought she could detect sadness in the single word. He turned back to the computer.

Robin watched him curiously. Her mind began to form a connection...it was like the last time.

The attack on Raven's Flat.

She recalled the moment she had heard the SOLOMON officers break through the building, the sound loud enough to jar her and cause her to drop the coffee pot she'd been pouring from. The sound of bullets....her comrades, going down in bursts of gunfire....she remembered being cornered at gunpoint, shivering and frightened, cowering on the floor.

Then, the piercing, blinding light....someone taking her arm, lifting her up, out of the shadows of the miserable corner she'd been attempting to disappear into.

_Amon._

It had happened over five months ago....but the memory was still as fresh in her mind as the day it had occurred.

_I was told by Zaizen to overlook your hunt....but I just couldn't do it._

She had heard the words he wasn't able to speak. _I believe in you._

After she had escaped---with the horrible belief that he'd been killed---he had confronted her again, several months later, at Nagira's hideout. She recalled seeing his face upon the opening of the door she'd always kept unlocked, his orbo gun trained on her....and his stern, cold expression. The face of the Hunter. 

Which had been exactly what she'd thought he had come there for, once she had seen his gun and his stern, distant gaze....to Hunt her. But it was a deception; his gun hadn't even been loaded. It had been a ploy all along, in order for him to see that which he felt he needed to see, what had driven him to seek her out again after all that time.

The evidence of her trust in him.

_Do you believe in me?_

And now, after another attack on their lives, he was distant and wary again. _Perhaps that is what he needs to see now. The evidence that I still trust him....that I still believe in him. That neither of us will let the other down._

She longed to reach out to him, to comfort him with that reassurance....but he seemed so remote, so emotionally far away. It was only one night ago that they had been in downtown Sovana, celebrating Tana's Day, enjoying the company of the villagers, as well as each other...it had only been earlier that morning since she had awoken to find that he had slept next to her all night, and had put the gemstone bracelet he'd bought on her wrist....

And yet it seemed now as though it had been ages ago.

She saw him glancing again at her out of the corner of his eye, and she belatedly realized she'd been staring at the back of his head the entire time. She fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist awkwardly.

"Amon---"

"Robin, I want to be alone for a while," he said, his words quiet but unyielding, as he continued to stare straight ahead at the laptop monitor before him.

She felt her body crumpling in defeat. He did not even want to be around her. Her mere presence was a distraction to him....she bowed her head in shame.

"_Gomenasai,_" she whispered quickly, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Amon sighed heavily after the door closed, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in the desk chair, his glance falling downward. His mind was a turmoil of mixed feelings, most of which he didn't want to give her any alert to. He hadn't meant to turn her away so abruptly, but he still felt a great deal of helpless frustration at the predicament they had found themselves in. 

Beyond that, he was consumed with unease at what he had just discovered upon reading Nagira's emailed response. He looked up again at the message on the screen.

**According to some of her extended family, Matoko did indeed spend a significant amount of time in Europe, right up until you were born. How did you know this, Otouto-san? You developing psychic powers or something? If so, I have some lottery numbers I'd like you to look over....**

***

There was something comforting, to Robin at least, about the familiar routines they had established at Jana's house.

After she and her grandmother had prepared dinner, they cleared dishes again as they were used to---without Amon, who had silently returned to his bedroom---and washed and dried them, talking nonchalantly the entire time as though nothing were different; as though the attack in Siena had not even happened. Jana told her a happy story of when Maria had first met Toudou, and had confessed to her mother afterwards how enamored she instantly was of him; and Robin's heart felt momentarily lightened. Even if Maria had lived a short life---the later part of it filled with sadness at her family's breakup, and fear of the discovery of her identity as a Witch---at least she had had moments of happiness, even if they had been few and far between.

It was those brief instances of joy, Jana told her, seized amidst the tumult that was her young life, that had allowed her to cling to her hope.

Robin prepared a bath later that evening. Even though she had bathed earlier that morning, she felt she needed her nightly ritual now more than ever. Almost unwillingly, her mind turned to the events in Siena as she soaked herself in the heated water.

Lighting the candle with her flame...hurrying to follow Amon's quickened footsteps along the sidewalk....her foot falling out from under her, ankle twisting painfully.....looking up at him from the ground, and her surprise at seeing the momentary gentleness coming into his dark gray eyes....

Then the bullet firing, as if out of nowhere....narrowly missing his head.

The bullet....

_...the bullet was meant for Amon!_

The realization of the fact confused her. It was _her_ Craft they had detected...why were they shooting at _Amon?_ She hadn't realized it at the time, too concerned with controlling her Craft to fight the Hunter....but he had seemed hell-bent on harming Amon, and had appeared surprised when she had shown up to defend him so forcefully. 

She struggled to sleep that night.

***

Robin found herself in a wide open field, standing in the low grass, while the children of the Sovanan villagers ran and scampered all around her. They were picking wildflowers and chasing each other, laughing and rejoicing in the spring day. 

She smiled to herself as she watched them, her long chestnut-blonde hair billowing around her shoulders in the breeze, which suddenly picked up with a force.

Heavy storm clouds darkened the sky, almost instantaneously, and it began to rain, cold and wet. Robin heard the low, distant rumble of thunder. The children ran from the field, covering their heads and shrieking; only Robin stayed, the cold blasts of air and water hitting her forcefully as the sky darkened, and she shielded her face from the onslaught.

"_Che cos'è questo?_" she asked, more to herself, and ominously she heard Jana's voice speaking to her in the dream. 

"_E' Dio di Tempesta,_" her grandmother's voice replied, and as Robin watched the sky overhead, she saw lightning flash. Between the brilliant flashes of light, she could vaguely make out a face, with icy blue eyes...

She awoke from her dream, sitting up in bed, panting.

Slowly she calmed her racing heart, catching her breath as she recalled the dream. It had actually been long and involved, but she could only remember the first few, vivid moments in detail.

She glanced at the clock next to her bed. _Ten-thirty._ She had slept in later than she had planned, a result of her restlessness the night before. Not even the full moon visible from her window in the sky, reminding her of Diana, had been able to calm her sleepless tossing and turning.

She sighed, resigned, and began to get dressed.

***

"_Buon giorno,_" Jana's voice gaily greeted her from the stove, and Robin smiled in reply as she entered the kitchen. Her grandmother's spirits had seemed down the previous day, but had apparently been rejuvenated overnight.

"_Buon giorno, Nonna,_" she responded, taking a seat at the table, where fresh coffee awaited her. Even if they did not venture into Sovana today, she decided she would do her best to help keep her grandmother's spirit uplifted.

"_Hai fatto una bella dormita?_" Jana asked. Robin was about to shake her head in a negative response, taking her first sip of coffee, before there was a pounding at the front door. Robin hesitated, her cup mid-way to her lips; but her grandmother seemed to have expected it.

"_Un attimo!_" Jana called out, removing her apron after extinguishing the fire under the stove, and headed towards the door.

Amon appeared in the kitchen, cleaning his boots on the floor mat in front of the door to the backyard. Robin met his eyes shyly but curiously, and he nodded to her in greeting. He turned his attention to the foyer, where Jana was welcoming a guest.

"_Avanti, avanti! Per favore,_" she was saying, and to Robin's surprise, Giovanna entered the kitchen behind Jana, who was now carrying a large basket full of bread and baked goods.

"_Buon giorno, Pellegrina,_" Giovanna greeted her, smiling at the young Witch, and Robin stood to go to the older woman and embrace her.

"_Buon giorno._" Robin smiled, hugging her and watching as Giovanna then turned her eyes on Amon, and nodded in his direction. "Giovanna, _perchè stai qui?_"

Giovanna shrugged lightly as she bestowed a benevolent smile. "I just come by to give you a gift." She gestured to the basket that Jana now held.

"_Molto grazie,_" Jana sang happily, taking the basket further into the kitchen and placing it on the countertop. She began rummaging through it as there was another knock at the door. Amon and Robin met each other's gaze this time in confusion.

"_Bambina?_" Jana asked, and Robin instantly understood, going to the door to answer. She pulled open the door to greet not only Gennaro, the fruit merchant, but also his wife and his three children. 

"Gennaro! _Buon....giorno...._" Robin gave them a bewildered greeting, as they entered the house bearing a basket of fruit, and the children followed quickly behind. Andria, the smallest one, pounced on the young Witch, clinging to her legs and chanting, "Pellega!" Robin attempted to close the door behind them, but was stopped by another couple, another vendor and his wife from the village. They too were bearing gifts of food, greeting her joyously.

Amon turned to Jana as people began to file unceremoniously into the house. "_Cosa succede?_" he asked, and she smiled at him to dispel his apprehension.

"Just some visitors for the afternoon," Jana said mysteriously, as more villagers began to enter the kitchen, bringing in baskets and containers of food and drink.

Gennaro spoke up from where he stood next to them. "Since you cannot go out into Sovana...." he gestured broadly to the baskets of food lining up on the counter, "...Sovana come to you." Amon understood then that somehow Jana had made it known to the villagers that they were in hiding.

He looked around. But for them to have done all this....

Robin came forward, having scooped Andria up into her arms. Despite the child being almost four years old, she was small; and even with her own slight frame, Robin could support her. "But Gennaro...are you sure that the townsfolk can afford this? ..._è così tanto...._"

"_Si, si._" He waved her concern away, showing her one of the bags of fruit that had been brought in. "_Guarda qua!_ I bring figs, four different kinds, since you like them so much." His eyes radiated happiness, and Robin could do nothing but smile in return, beyond words at his and the others' generosity.

Andria looked skeptically up at Amon from where she sat in Robin's arms, and upon meeting the dark hunter's eyes she hurriedly hid her face away, burrowing it into Robin's neck. Slyly she peeked at him from the corner of one eye, to see if he was still watching her.

Gennaro's wife laughed heartily at seeing her daughter's reaction to Robin's tall, stern protector. "Look at Andria, how she flirts with _il cacciatore!_" she chuckled, and Gennaro and Jana both returned her smiles. "She will be such a breaker of hearts."

"She a little young for him, _no?_" Gennaro laughed, and Robin, still holding the shy girl in her arms, glanced at Amon. She felt a faint blush coming on as she realized he had been watching her the entire time.

"Ah, but _amore è amore,_" Jana responded knowingly, watching the two, observing the meaningful glances. Gennaro and his wife laughed, as Jana smiled to herself, turning her attention back to the kitchen and preparing food to feed her guests.

***

After a hearty lunch---not even having put a dent into the supply of food that had been given---everyone had gathered in the living room. Most of them were seated on the floor, as Giovanna spun tales and stories from where she sat in a large, comfortable chair. Robin held Andria on her lap, two other young girls flanking her on either side, holding onto her arms. 

One of the villagers was asking Giovanna to describe to the group the history of _la vecchia religione,_ the Old Religion. The room grew hushed and quieted as she launched into her description:

"_La vecchia religione_, the old religion of Italy, first began to form around the beliefs of early, pre-Etruscan Italians. No one knows where the pre-Etruscans came from...but given their fixations with magick, burial of their dead, and the afterworld; some historians think that their origins might have been as far south as from Egypt. Which made a certain degree of sense; at that time in history, around 1500-1200 BC, Egypt had undergone drastic changes in their culture from polytheism to monotheism....the structure of their religious belief system was in uproar.

"The mystery teachings and magickal practices begun by the pre-Etruscans were further developed and refined by the Etruscans, who settled Italy around 1000 BC, establishing the Great Etruscan Empire. They were widely known for their great magickal and mystical knowledge, as well in their beliefs in their gods; most of which significantly influenced the appearance of the first Romans hundreds of years later.

"Etruscans cared a great deal more about the afterworld that about life on this earth...and they built magnificent tombs which they decorated with paintings and stocked with goods and items to benefit the dead on their journey. They believed the pleasures of life on earth would continue on after death, and felt it essential that the living gain the goodwill of the gods in order to enjoy their afterlife." 

Amon spoke up, and Robin looked over at him with interest from where she sat with the children. "So Witches---or 'gods'---lived among the Etruscans?" he asked.

Giovanna nodded. "One of the Etruscan ideas of deity was the notion of 'manus', or power, which they believed to underlie all of creation and which manifested itself to humans as the gods. Manus became concentrated in certain places, and eventually in certain families; and could be harnessed to assist humans. Those who could discern the motions of this power, who could tap into it, would be in touch with the divine and would be favored in their lives. Consciousness of the power was not enough; one had to possess the wisdom to become a conduit for it.

"The origins of the practices of the _Streghe_ grew from this. _Stregheria_ is Italian word for Witchcraft; _strega_ and _stregone_ for female and male Witches, respectively.

"In _Stregheria_ there are certain guardian spirits. There are the _Grigori_...the 'Watchers', spirits who are the guardians of the portals of the Astral plane, who can recognize works of _streghe_ magick and can allow access to the portals of otherworldly realms of existence. They do not judge the actions of a Witch, but they can interfere with magickal powers within that realm that they control. 

"Then, there are those called the _Lare_, who are both protectors and preservers. They represent not only ancient family ties, but the spirits who protect and preserve _la vecchia religione_ and its followers. They are the spirits of beings who have already lived as Witches and are now moving up to become demi-gods...they are viewed as the "collective consciousness" of former _Streghe_. The _Streghe_ families kept this belief in the Lare alive, gaining strength and aid from staying linked with the Witches that had gone before. Generation after generation has remembered and honored the previous ones; this is why we can trace our heritage back, and recall the family lines. It is our culture and our heritage which binds us together...which we should all honor and appreciate." Giovanna seemed to look meaningfully at Amon, who averted his eyes and ducked his head in thought.

_....our heritage that binds us together._

Yet, he did not even know if his parents' true heritage was in fact his own.

Another villager was asking about the Roman Empire. Giovanna nodded patiently and spoke again.

"The Romans evolved as a people from the Etruscans, and in the 5th century BC they rejected the Etruscan king and formed their own republic. But the Romans had adopted the Etruscan gods and goddesses as their own; and many Etruscan deities lived on in Roman Pagan worship. 

"Witches were well accepted for hundreds of years in Italy, as the worship flourished, and they lived peacefully among humans until the emergence of Christianity as a new form of Judaism. Whereas Judaism had not been tolerated by the Romans, Christianity took hold tenaciously, and within a few hundred years after the birth of Christ, after a thousand years of domination, the Empire had fallen, and the Church began to gain power and control over the land." 

_SOLOMON must have emerged at that time,_ Robin thought to herself.

"With the overthrow of Paganism at the hand of the Christians, magickal practices and Dianic cults such as that of the King of the Woods at Nemi were outlawed. Priestesses of Diana took refuge in isolated villages near Lake Nemi, and the temple of Diana fell into ruins. Christianized Romans looked down upon the country dwellers, whom they viewed as simpletons. Yet it was here in these rural villages that _la vecchia religione_ was maintained and survived, separate and independent of Christianity and the rise of the Church."

Jana, seated in a chair opposite Giovanna, nodded her head sadly, her eyes downcast. "Then came the beginning of _il Tempo Bruciato_."

"The Scorched Time?" Robin translated, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"_Si,_" Giovanna responded. "The Burning Time."

***

The children had been sent outside to play in the backyard among the oak and rowan, and the elders, namely Giovanna, Jana, and a few others, continued to tell their stories to the adult villagers, as well as Amon and Robin.

"The persecution of Witches in Italy began soon after the fall of Rome; but did not become extremely violent until the late twelfth century," Giovanna said. "Before then, the Church struck out mainly against organized groups. Solitary village Witches were generally tolerated, continuing the roles of village healer, herbalist, midwife, and counselor; thus _Stregheria_ remained relatively intact throughout the Middle Ages. Paganism was driven into dark corners, and age by age the Church fought against it. The women in particular clung to their Diana, unwilling to give up their beloved goddess to believe in the cold Christian advice to pray to Mary.

"But when the persecutions increased, there was no place that was safe. Christianity had spread throughout Europe, and for hundreds of years, men and women, _strega_ and _stregone_, were arrested and tortured, hanged and burnt. 

"It was not the desire to rid the earth of every Pagan individual. It was fear, of those with powers---for with the return of the Goddess in the human form, the powers of Witches grew....fear of how powerful they could become....those who were deemed Hunters destroyed entire families, for fear that the genetic traits of _Stregheria_ would continue....men, women, and children. And, it was jealousy." She looked up to meet Robin's eyes.

Robin was instantly reminded of her talk with Methusalah, months ago, in the Walled City. Her mind became jumbled with fragments of the conversation she'd had with the old woman that day. _Nine million....the ones who committed the atrocities who shared the same blood as the fallen gods, labeling them 'Witch'...you, too, died like that...._

....the first god.

"Those who had aligned themselves with the Church, with the most powerful entity, had chosen to hunt down others like them, labeling them Witches, and eliminating them. 

"They tortured those poor people....without mercy....drove meaningless confessions out of them, only to then subject them to more tortures. They drugged or strangled the Witch, blindfolded them and bound their hands so that they could not act their magick upon their torturers. The final act was to burn the Witch alive, thereby 'purifying' the soul of the one the Hunters had labeled in league with the Devil."

Robin bowed her head, her memories of Methusalah's descriptions of Witch Hunts flooding her mind. It was difficult not to recollect those Witches she'd burnt, in the name of the Church....

_But things are different now. You aren't as you were back then. Your eyes have been opened._ She was relieved for it, despite the pain it caused her to reflect on the deaths that had she known otherwise, she would not have participated in.

"The Burning Time continues, even now," Giovanna continued sadly. "Those with the genetic information on every individual, as well as with the knowledge of the power to detect magick through the _Grigori_---the Watchers---continue to Hunt the children of Darkness, to end their lineages, and to erase all existence of Witches from the earth."

The room was silent for several moments, each digesting the words said. Robin looked up with interest, though, when she heard Amon speak, the soft baritones of his voice breaking the silence.

"What about the God and Goddess?" He was looking at Giovanna earnestly, but with a barely discernable curiosity. Robin thought that if she hadn't looked hard enough at him, she would have missed the fleeting look she'd seen on his face.

Giovanna smiled a strange smile, possibly relieved at the change of topic, as she set about answering his question.

""Dianus and Diana are the most common names found associated with _la vecchia religione,_ references in history dating back to the sixth century, BC. But his origins are much, much older than that...as are hers.

"Dianus is the nature god, associated with woods, herds, and fertility....he was present at the rites of Diana at the sacred grove of Nemi. The oak trees are sacred to him. He is also another name for the god Janus, the two-faced god of doorways and portals, and beginnings. The 'double face' of Janus refers to the stage of a God who is between his base earth aspect, and higher Divine aspect. Dianus is visualized as a stag god, or a man with antlers. He is the _consorte_ of Diana even in Her chaste aspect, as the Maiden---in this aspect they are like brother and sister. As She is Temptress, He is her lover."

_Stag god....man with antlers._

Robin's mind flashed again to Methusalah's description, and the cave drawing she had witnessed. _The first god._

"The Goddess is the Life Force, in as much as She is the fertility in all things. It is through her activity that we are born, and that seeds push up through the earth, and grow into plants. She moves the God to create through His desire for Her. The Goddess is the joy of life, She is the passion to live. Compassion, love, gentleness, and kindness are the essence of her spirit. All women carry the Goddess within, in various aspects and degrees.

"Yet, there is a duality in all things, and the Goddess can manifest as vengeance, and destruction. She is the Soul and the Wrath of Nature.

"The Goddess rules the night, and the Moon is her sacred symbol. All women are linked to her through the Moon, which influences the flow of blood. The night is the essence of mystery that all women possess. This is the elusive quality which all women bear, but can never be known, or touched upon. The desire of men for women, is the desire of God for Goddess. It is the attraction of the Life Force.

"The Goddess is known as the Queen of Heaven, clothed in stars, and wearing the Moon as a crown. She is the Earth Mother, clothed in green, pregnant with the Child of Life, which she bears every year. She is the Virgin Maiden, naked and beautiful. She is youth and the lust for life. She is the Enchantress, and the Temptress. She is all women.

"The Goddess is Queen of all Witches, who She calls Her hidden children. We who worship Her are her servants...She teaches us the ways of nature, and spirit. She reveals all mysteries, and gives light to the darkness. And to the wise, she imparts Her sacred name.

"The God is known as the stern and demanding aspect of divinity...yet this is only one aspect of his nature. He is perceived as the Death Force, which transforms. He is Lord of the Afterworld, who restores and renews the soul, to prepare it for a new life. This is performed through the union of the God and Goddess.

"Yet, again, there is a duality in all things, and the God is also vitality and strength. He is the Sun, the Lord of Light. The God is the desire to create, and through the attraction of the Goddess, he is moved to create.

"He is Lord of the Heavens, clothed in the Sun, and bearing a golden rod. He is Lord of the Earth, horned like a stag, and powerful. He is Lord of the Afterworld, dark and lonely, stern and just. For His are the two faces of Janus. Through Him is order established and discipline mastered. He is the inner strength of the individual. He is the essence of strength and defense.

"Yet, he is also the warrior, and the destroyer. He is power and will. All men bear his essence, in various degrees. He is all men. There is a side of the God which can be seen by those who desire to love Him...it is a gentleness, a compassion, and an understanding. This comes from His awareness of His strength and power. His compassion is born of His understanding of justice. 

"The God is sexual desire and virility within the male. He is attraction, sensuality, and sexuality. In death, He is the comforter, and the renewer. He is the Great Initiator, and Teacher. He rules the Afterworld, and dispels the darkness with His presence. He is the Illuminator, and reveals all that is hidden. He scatters all falsehoods, and establishes truth."

"He sounds very busy," Gennaro quipped from the floor, and the entire room burst into laughter, dispelling the awed, silent mood from a moment before. 

Jana was laughing. "Indeed, he is," she smiled, rising from her chair.

***

The townspeople began to leave close to the end of the afternoon, and Robin helped Jana clean the kitchen, as well as organize the leftover food that remained.

They ate a quiet dinner hours later, by candlelight after the fall of dusk; and following that, Jana retreated to her room, appearing tired. Robin cleaned the dishes at the sink, her usual nightly chore; and although Amon was nowhere to be found, she nevertheless enjoyed the simple task.

She had just finished at the sink, and had blown out the candle that burned next to her, when she began to hear soft singing from the open window, the faint sound of male and female voices being lifted in song. She strained to look out the window that faced the side of the house, and what she saw made her gasp in astonishment.

The townspeople of Sovana were returning, each adult holding a lit candle, singing softly and surrounding the farmhouse. Robin went to the other window at the kitchen that faced the front of the yard, and saw that they were indeed surrounding that portion of the house also. She watched in stunned fascination, as the villagers walked slowly, calmly, along the grass on each side of the farmhouse.

Jana appeared in the kitchen, and Robin turned to her, confused. "What are they doing?" she asked her grandmother softly, her eyes returning to the sight outside.

"They are calling the Ancient Ones, the _Lare,_ bambina," Jana responded just as quiet, her dark green eyes sad but with a gentle light. "They are calling them to protect both of you."

Without another word, Jana walked to the door leading to the backyard and stepped outside, calmly following the footsteps of the townspeople who had gathered around the house. Robin watched, speechless.

The full moon overhead lit well enough to see, and she could tell now, even in the darkness, that the villagers had formed a five-pointed star surrounding the farmhouse, which was at the direct center of it. Their candles flickering gently in the dark breeze, they continued to sing in a strange language, not Italian, but vaguely similar:

Éist le mo chroí,  
Go brónach a choích  
Tá mé caillte gan t  
's do bhean chéile.

It was so hauntingly beautiful, that Robin felt tears coming to her eyes from the sound alone that carried on the breeze, coming in through the windows. 

_They do this to protect myself and Amon,_ she realized, watching them sing, their bodies swaying as if in an ethereal dance with the trees and the wind. _They have protected Jana and other Witches in her family here, preserving these ancient traditions and ways of life, for tens, hundreds of years._ She recalled Giovanna's description of the spirits who served as familial guides.

_**They** are the real Lare, these people, not some mythical spirits or beings...the love and belief they hold in their hearts....they are the true protectors of the Streghe._

She began to cry silently, tears escaping her emerald eyes as she fought against the sobs that threatened to wrack her small frame. Her tears ran down her face freely as she gave in to her grief and fear; the fear of what was to come, the fear of being Hunted....her feelings of sadness for Witches who had gone before, and suffered, and not known this display of love that she witnessed now before her very eyes. Her body wavered, slightly unsteady on her feet as she stood in the middle of the dark kitchen.

She did not see Amon in the shadows of the darkened kitchen, standing off behind her, watching her.

He knew she was crying, despite her back being turned to him...he could hear the minute but harsh intakes of breath, saw her slight form shudder with the sobs she fought to control. The sight alone made his heart ache as though it were in pain...and yet, he could not bring himself to approach her. He yearned to comfort her, but he did not know how. He was too used to being on the outside, looking in; he was too practiced at being the cool, aloof observer.

He had seen the townspeople surrounding the house, chanting their soft song, illuminating the darkness with their lights; and their actions had profoundly affected him. He knew then, that moment, that what Robin had suggested the day before, what Toudou had insinuated in his research, was true....that the gods had been loved, _deeply loved,_ by the humans that had worshipped them. The villagers' actions were proof of this, in his eyes.

_You have always questioned whether Witches' existences were justified,_ he reminded himself. _Here is your answer, right before you._

Suddenly Robin turned, hesitant, and faced him as he hid in the shadows. He had not thought out his actions past that moment, had not anticipated she would notice him there; and he remained where he was, immobile.

Something in his eyes spoke to her, and she crossed the room in a few quick steps towards him. He stepped forward to meet her, and they met halfway. She pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his back, her face against his coat; and he instinctively encircled her with his own. She cried, still silently, against the front of his coat, shuddering with sobs.

Amon wished he could say something, tell her words that would soothe her...something that showed he understood, that he felt the same grief that she did. But his words seemed to him as though they would be inferior---that nothing he said would possibly convey what he thought---and he remained silent.

Her arms snaked around his back and up to his shoulder blades, in an effort to draw herself further into his embrace. In response to her unspoken need, Amon tightened his arms around her lithe frame, only stopping when he heard her give an audible squeak.

He felt her sadness eventually recede, as she nestled her face against the sturdy material of the shoulder of his overcoat....knowing without looking into her eyes, that her tears were already beginning to dry. She sniffled once or twice, and he stroked her back gently as if in response.

He heard her whisper as her breathing returned to normal, as she held onto him firmly, as though she would never let go.

"_Daijoubu,_ Amon," she mumbled into his coat, her voice soft and calm. "_Daijoubu._"

Amon closed his eyes as he felt the breath choking in his lungs. _She_ was consoling him---she, the sixteen-year-old girl, the young Witch, was telling him everything would be all right. The realization floored him where he stood, and he held on to her, bowing his face into her loose ginger hair. _He_ was the older of the two, he was the protector..._he_ was the one who was supposed to comfort her, not the other way around. 

Nevertheless, he held on tightly---his heart beating erratically in his chest, his face still in her hair---and pressed his lips gently but firmly against the side of her head. Not content with the single display of affection, he moved his cheek along the crown of her chestnut-haired head, pressing his lips into her hair again as he went, inhaling her sweet scent. He felt her tense briefly in his arms, before her body relaxed and melted again against his own.

It felt incredibly good to hold her like this...he could do so without regret, without worrying whether he was overstepping boundaries that should not be crossed. It would not be as it had been on Tana's Day, where he had almost lost his control. His affection for her now, he thought, was pure; that of a watchful, caring guardian.

From where her own cheek had been tucked into the shelter between his shoulder and collarbone, Robin turned her face so that her lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck, barely concealed by his hair. Emboldened by the affection he lavished on her, she kissed his neck gently, arching her body unconsciously against his to reach higher, up near his ear.

Amon's eyes flew open. He froze, still as a statue, his face hidden by his own dark locks.

This wasn't what he'd had in mind....but as she began kissing her way along his neck to the edge of his jaw, he found himself powerless to stop it. With dismay, he felt his disobedient body begin to respond to her chaste caresses.

Robin continued to press gentle kisses against his skin within her reach, each one steadily moving farther away from his ear, and closer to his face. She had no idea what had possessed her to keep doing it; other than the fact that Amon had made no move to stop her, and that by his inaction, he had allowed her to demonstrate how deeply she cared for him. Perhaps even though she could not comfort him in words, he would understand how important he was to her...how she would not, ever, let him down. She felt that she needed this contact with him, to demonstrate these things, as well as to reaffirm them for herself in her own mind.

Her lips traced his stern jawline, the skin soft even though it had always appeared as though set in stone, and she stopped before they had approached the corners of his mouth, pulling her head back to look into his face. Amon's arms were still wound tightly around her as he stared down into her eyes, his own having taken on the look she had seen nights ago, amidst the dancing and the flame of the Belfire. It didn't startle her, this time.

Her eyes skipped down to his lips, and an errant thought occurred to her. _I wonder if his lips are really as soft as they felt that night._ She recalled the sensation of his mouth on her fingers, the sweet feeling that had coursed through her body at the contact; and wondered if she could tell the same sensation on her own lips.

She moved, standing on tiptoe, and lightly, reverently, brushed his slightly parted lips with her own. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she thought he would surely hear it.

The gentle, almost timid action infused him at once with such a raw, sacred feeling that he nearly shuddered in response. He felt himself closing his eyes, his lips brushing against hers in response, unwilling to break contact as she had begun to withdraw. He tightened his arms around her again as he deepened the kiss, almost against his will, his mouth angling hungrily against hers. Her parted lips against his own were an invitation too tempting to resist, and his tongue moved gently to part them further, tasting her, eliciting a small gasp that died in her throat.

Robin was almost certain her feet were going to fall out from under her. She was helpless against the tide of feelings sweeping through her like a storm, powerful and unrelenting.....the only thing she knew for certain was that she could not let go of him, could not bear to have it end. She clung to him as if she were drowning.

Finally Amon pulled them roughly apart from each other, his hands firmly grasping each of her shoulders, staring incredulously into her face, as she looked similarly surprised by his sudden action. Both were panting for breath.

_Kuso._

_What the hell are you doing? She's only sixteen. She's still a child....and you're taking advantage of her. Get ahold of yourself. She's upset and needs to be comforted, not molested!_

Again words failed him, and he stood before her, his lips working, but unable to make a sound. She looked up at him, her expression confused and slightly frightened---she looked worried, as though she'd done something wrong.

He turned his face away from her view as he released her from his hold, stepping off to the side.

"_Sumanai,_" he whispered harshly, his back to her. He walked quickly out of the room, not daring to look back, for fear he wouldn't be able to leave if he saw her face.

Robin watched him leave, bewildered and tormented. She wondered what he possibly could have apologized for....since she had been the one to have obviously caused him distress.

She stood alone, in the darkened kitchen, as the soft singing outside slowly died away in the wind.

.

* * *

Next chapter:

Explosion of will that cannot be refused....The riddle deepens....The God of Storms. An uncertain departure leaves behind tumultuous feelings. Chapter 10.

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Italian translations: (shorter this time? Maybe?)

Che cos'è quello?: What is that?  
scusi: excuse me  
nani: [Japanese] what  
iiya: [Japanese] no  
gomenasai: [Japanese] pardon me, excuse me  
Che cos'è questo?: what is this?  
E' Dio di Tempesta: It is the God of Storms  
Buon giorno: good morning  
Hai fatto una bella dormita?: did you have a good sleep?  
Un attimo!: wait a moment!  
Avanti: come  
Per favore: please  
Pellegrina: pilgrim  
perchè stai qui?: why are you here?  
molto grazie: thank you very much  
Cosa succede: what's going on?  
è così tanto: it is so much  
guarda qua!: see for yourself!  
il cacciatore: the hunter  
amore è amore: love is love  
streghe: non-gender-specific term for Witches  
Daijoubu: it's all right  
Kuso: [Japanese] shit. Does this mean the pg-13 rating goes up? ^^;

Sumanai: [Japanese] I'm sorry

*****************************

And, lastly---more fun author's notes! Whooopee! ^^:

First off, for all those confused on the "beacon" reference...sorry about that. I explained the 'Watchers' concept a bit better in this chapter. It was indeed the usage of Robin's power, the lighting of the table candle, that enabled the Hunter to find them. 

Much of my background information regarding the origins and belief of _Stregheria_, Italian Witchcraft, comes from researching the works of Raven Grimassi, specifically his essay _On Hereditary Witchcraft_. By no means have I made anything up, but I've tried to word some of his writing more in my own words.

My historical references to the Etruscan and Roman Empires are from various sources, all which can be located in history books or through the internet. No one knows where the Etruscans really came from, and it is my own inference that they may have originated from Egypt....however that is not fact, merely my interpretation. But there is some strong evidence for it! 

The song that the townspeople are singing at the end is again another Enya song (I just love those, if you can't already tell ^^; ), again from _Shepherd Moons_, called "Smaointe", and it is a Celtic song. The English translation of the lyrics can be found here: http:// enya/ shepherd_moons /smaointe . Be sure to take out the spaces before copying into your browser.

Lastly, thanks to some of my helpful reviewers: Vitani, of course, for her words of Wiccan wisdom ^^; Gabriel Zed for pointing out another origin of the Enya song I mentioned in the last chapter; Laura Dunckel for pointing out another awesome Italian language site; Mikey for your *incredible* insight....I had to modify your post slightly, I hope you weren't offended ^^ .

I think I will attempt to respond to more reviews, when I have the time, by emailing people directly. It seems as though that's more personal, anyway. ^^ Thank you again, everyone, for reading this far and for leaving such great comments. ^^ 


	11. Chapter 10: Seth

A/N : I'm so pleased that everyone is still enjoying the story; I only wish I could get chapters out sooner (and I really have no excuse not to now) to appease everyone! ^^; I promise I will make my most concerted effort to do so for the next chapter.

Warning: Some violence, and a bit of language in this chapter. It's still only PG-13 language, though, so no worries. The rating *will* go up, however---and not due to language---in a few chapters. Just warning you guys....but somehow I don't think you'll complain. ^^

***************************************

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 10: Seth**

.

* * *

Amon awoke, rather unsettled, from a dream he was certain was induced by the activity of the night before.

He dressed and made his way to the door of his bedroom, opening it and allowing Bast to run through, past his ankles, before he proceeded. He looked across the hallway as he did, spying Robin's door ajar and her room empty.

He stared at the adjacent door, his expression morose. Flashes of what had occurred the night before entered his mind against his will. Listening to the poignant song of the Sovanan villagers as they'd surrounded the farmhouse....watching her in the gloom of the darkened kitchen as she had openly wept, her form barely illuminated by the candles that glowed outside....holding her in his arms, tightly....unable to let her go. He, with his _iron-clad_ sense of control---which had obviously been on the decline since Tana's Day---had been unable to stop what had happened next.

_A child. She's a child, and you were kissing her as though she were....as though you were...._

....lovers.

Part of him realized his own thoughts were erroneous. Robin wasn't really a child, even by legal standards. With her unusual upbringing, she had probably never even been one emotionally---and because of her maturity, in several instances he'd found the need to actually remind himself that she was, in fact, only sixteen. But the uncanny wisdom she possessed for someone her age did not acquit him, he felt, of guilt from his recent behavior. She was still young....too young for what he had done, both the previous night and several nights before, during the festival....and yet he still found her difficult to resist.

Not even Touko---whom he had known for years---had plagued him the way Robin had begun to.

Touko had cared about him deeply, perhaps even loved him; but she had also known him well enough not to push him, physically or otherwise, into something he hadn't pursued himself. She had unequivocally accepted that he kept her at arms' distance, despite her own wants and needs. She had played his game well. 

But Robin had not been content with such a ruse. Robin, the docile, even-tempered and well-mannered young girl....with a quietly tenacious and indomitable will that he had yet to see demonstrated by women ten years older than herself. _Iron fist in a velvet glove..._that was how he envisioned her. Outwardly soft and gentle, pleasing to the touch....but strong enough to refuse to bend under the most severe, crushing weight. 

She was quite dissimilar from Touko, in ways that went far beyond differences in age. Touko was transparent to him; he had always seen through to her ulterior motives, her desires. Robin, however, remained a mystery. She seemed simultaneously naive and self-assured; enigmatic, and yet she was completely unguarded around him. He wasn't sure what it was exactly that she wanted from him---he doubted sometimes whether or not she knew it for herself---but her openness, her inability to hide anything from him, had enabled him to trust her almost implicitly. It had been a long time since he had been able to do so, with anyone....he vaguely wondered if this was the first instance of it in his entire adult life, since he'd been a child.

Even so, he feared the repercussions of it, nonetheless. 

_You have nothing to give,_ he told himself. _You never keep your promises._ He couldn't, to anyone...not if it meant permanence, being faithful to that person---_needing_ that person. He couldn't, if it meant caring strongly enough for someone to awaken what he knew was deep inside of him, simmering underneath the surface of his skin....biding its time before it took him over completely and turned him into what he feared most. 

He walked into the hallway, restraining himself from glancing back again at her open door.

_You chose this life for yourself, a long time ago....and it's too late to turn around now._

So why did he dare to think now that anything would be different?

***

Robin sat on the beach in her dark pilgrim's dress and watched the tide flow effortlessly in onto the shore. She had taken her boots off and removed her socks, burying her pale toes in the clean, white sand, savoring the feel of it. The air was cool around her, the sun comforting and warm; she watched the waves roll in peacefully, her arms clasped loosely around her dark-skirted knees, wisps of her unbound hair tickling her face every now and then. She knew he would come looking for her soon, upon discovering she wasn't in the farmhouse....so for the moment, she relished the quiet solitude, and the serenity it offered.

She had made her decision, already, about what was to be done....but she knew he would not approve.

The young Witch sighed softly as she rested her chin on her knees, still looking out at the churning ocean ahead of her. She closed her eyes and felt again the familiar stirring of her blood, the rush of it to her face, as she recalled what had happened in the dark kitchen.

It had felt wonderful---his lips were indeed as soft as she'd felt them that night, at the festival---and the taste of his mouth, combined with the heady, masculine scent that had emanated from his skin, had almost caused her to go into sensory overload. She was surprised she had been able to stand on her own two feet the entire time. The experience had made her feel as though she were awakened, _alive_....as she had been the instant he'd roused the same feelings in her as he had on Tana's Day.

Then the kiss had ended abruptly, his expression slightly angry as he had pulled away from her, causing her to deem her brash act a mistake. But for a fleeting moment, she had sensed a response, a shiver of an unspoken answer in him to the sensation that had coursed through her own body. It was only a hint of what went on behind the guarded, slate-gray eyes, but nevertheless she had seen it, felt it---and it was enough to fill her heart with hope. His wall was not impenetrable.

_Amon....you are not so detached as you would like others to believe._

She opened her eyes, staring back out again at the water, her emerald eyes stern and serious. She had to force herself to focus her thoughts. Now was no longer the time to reflect on such things, not when they were both being Hunted. She knew what had to be done; and as much as she dreaded it, she would not turn away, not shirk her responsibility.

She had put the two people she cared most about in danger, and now it was up to her to face it head-on, without fear.

Robin heard him approach, the sound of his boots soft and muffled in the sand; he came to stand next to where she sat, still looking out at the ocean. She did not turn her head to look at him, even as he sat down on the sand beside her.

Amon seated himself beside her, noting her calm countenance, her distant gaze. He too looked out to the water, to the waves that were breaking along the tranquil, sandy shore.

"Jana told me where to find you." His voice came to her low and quiet, and he paused uncertainly, as if he were unsure how to articulate his thoughts further. 

She gave a faint nod, distracted. Her emerald eyes narrowed as she continued to look out at the ocean, as if she were steeling herself for what she was about to say next.

"Robin," he began softly, and she detected a trace of solemnity. She cut him off before he could complete his thought.

"What was in the journal, Amon?" she asked, her voice hushed and gentle.

He looked at her next to him in surprise, before schooling his features again to disguise it.

"Tell me." Her request was quietly earnest.

He lowered his gaze to the white sand, waiting several beats before he spoke.

"My mother's name," he said slowly, "was in Benedetto's writing. Nagira has confirmed that she spent time in Europe before I was born." He looked pointedly at her, and Robin turned her head to look at him. 

"She was his test subject." 

Robin nodded to herself, looking back towards the water. "And you wished to go after the address given to us by Padre Nicola, in the hopes that you could locate someone to tell you of his research."

"_Hai._" His somber response came to her ears.

She waited, delaying the statement she knew she would have to make. Finally she turned her head to meet his eyes again.

"Then we are to go back to Siena, to find that information. Before SOLOMON prevents us from ever knowing the truth."

His head snapped up, his eyes lit with a spark of disbelief as they met hers again. "_Nani?_" he said roughly, his voice having taken the familiar threatening edge. "Do you want to get yourself killed? They will be combing Siena looking for us." 

"_Sì, lo so,_" she answered calmly, unshaken by his stern glare. "But we can't just run away and hide in the corner, hoping they won't find us..."

He was shaking his head firmly, side to side, as he looked at her. "It's too dangerous."

"Amon, it is the only way to know exactly why _you are being Hunted._"

She could see his entire body go rigid at her words. He knew, unconsciously or not, that what she had said was true. It wasn't Robin that the Hunter had gone after that day in the alley---it was _himself._

Even so, he already had formulated an answer. "The logical answer is that they Hunt me because I am no longer with them."

"I am certain they do not have so many resources as to chase every Hunter who has gone astray," Robin argued. "There has to be a reason why they believe you are so threatening."

"If I am such a threat, why was I allowed to become a Hunter?" he countered. "Regardless of that---your survival is more important than finding out why they are Hunting me. I told you I would ensure that you survived. Do you not remember?"

Robin could see he was not going to surrender to her argument so easily. She turned back to the ocean. "I do remember," she answered, quietly but firmly. "But I have already made up my mind. If you do not go with me, I will go alone to find the Benedetto contact."

She knew how to get underneath his skin. _Stubborn child._

Nevertheless he found himself looking at her, almost curiously. "You're not afraid," he noted, more of an observation than a question.

"I was frightened, before," she admitted, turning her solemn green eyes back to face him. "But I'm not, any longer." She met his eyes, not challenging, but reassuring him.

What Amon saw in the green depths made him more anxious inside than the thought of facing down SOLOMON's Hunters in Siena. _You have to tell her._

"Robin," he began again sternly, as he had earlier. "What happened last night...." He saw her eyes changing, shifting in the sunlight, and he strengthened his resolve. "It won't happen again," he stated, his voice firm.

But to his inner amazement, she had seemed to have prepared herself for his words. Even before he had finished speaking, she was shaking her head gently, her eyes downcast.

"_Daijoubu,_" she said, and he was quickly reminded of the darkened kitchen, and her hushed consolation. "Even if it does or does not happen again....it's all right." She looked back up at him and half-smiled then, mysteriously. 

Resolve seemed suddenly useless to him, when confronted with the purity of her convictions. _Iron in velvet,_ he thought.

She stood then, brushing the sand from her long skirt, and hooking her boots with her fingers. She extended her free hand towards him, as an invitation to help him up.

"_Andiamo,_" she said with her characteristic softness, and he accepted, taking her hand in his.

She would not tell him, as they walked back to Jana's house, that his response to her in the kitchen---his instinctive answer to her unspoken need to comfort and be comforted---was what had enabled her to gather her courage. 

_I can have hope,_ she thought...._enough for both of us._

***

She didn't understand the importance of it, but Amon seemed convinced.

"We need our own vehicle," he asserted firmly. "We need to be able to leave suddenly of our own accord...we cannot depend on someone to wait for us. Besides, whomever accompanies us will be similarly at risk from Hunters as we will be." He looked meaningfully at the young chestnut-haired Witch beside him, who ducked her head under his gaze.

Jana nodded, from where she stood facing the two of them. "There may be someone in town who will be willing to rent, or even sell to you." Amon nodded quickly in response. Despite her worry, Jana had realized that Robin's decision to return to Siena was firm, as was Amon's resolve to protect her. She did not attempt to stand in their way.

Before they left, Amon retreated to his bedroom and returned with a handful of bronze-cased ammunition, which he began to manually load one-by-one into his 45-caliber pistol.

Robin saw markings on one of the small bullets. "_Che cos'è quelli?_" she asked, watching with fascination as he loaded the magazine. It began to dawn on her what the markings on the sides of the metal objects were.

"This is obviously not a sniper rifle," he said quietly, loading a second clip, "but it is the only weapon I have." He looked at her, his expression stoic.

She looked at the rune markings on the casings...._Witch Hunting bullets._

Their eyes met and locked briefly over the recognition of the nature of the ammunition, and when it had last been used. His own dark eyes held guilt; but Robin's hand, gentle on his forearm as they left Jana's farmhouse, told him silently that she knew why he had them in his possession....and that he had already been forgiven.

They walked purposefully into the _via de Mezzo,_ immediately meeting up with a couple of the villagers at the edge of the township. Robin facilitated the necessary dialogue, and within moments they were being led to an old pickup truck available for purchase.

Amon inspected the vehicle thoroughly. "It will run well enough?" he asked, and Robin translated to the owner of the truck.

"He says it runs perfectly," she told him in earnest. "He will even throw in two tanks of gasoline for us to use when we need it." She saw his approving nod.

They got in and Amon started it up, pausing to pay the man the bargained-down amount before pulling out of the _via de Mezzo_ and heading out onto the main road.

It was an old manual speed truck, and Amon cursed softly to himself as he switched gears and heard an unexpected grinding. He hadn't driven manually in a while; his custom Audi, leased through STN-J, had been automatic. He distinctly missed driving the dark, sleek vehicle that had served him well on multiple car chases.

"Teach me how to drive, Amon," Robin asked suddenly from the seat next to him, as they swayed back and forth gently with the motion of the truck's tires on the dirt road.

He scoffed, his vision remaining straight ahead. "Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the same thing as a Vespa."

"_Lo so._ But I'm sixteen now; it's not ridiculous," she rebuked gently. "Besides, I may need to know sometime, especially if you are injured and we need to escape."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She did have a point, whether he wanted to admit it or not. After all, he was far more vulnerable to injury than she was....wasn't he?

"On the ride back, I will show you," he offered, to placate her. But his thoughts were uneasy.

_If we make it back._

***

After having parked in a secluded area of _il Campo_ and having procured street maps, they set about finding the address that Padre Nicola had provided them with. Both had donned their sunglasses, not sure of what good it did them for disguise purposes, but using them nevertheless. Robin had kept her hair loose, but was dressed in her pilgrim's attire; she had reasoned that her powers were still detectable regardless of what she wore, and Amon had found himself agreeing with her deduction.

They walked the short distance to the residential area, and finally came upon the home that had been designated as belonging to relatives of Mario Benedetto. It appeared to be a modest home; but upon closer inspection of it, they saw that it was decrepit, old and worn-down, as though the house had not been taken care of in a while. A couple of the outside windows were boarded.

Robin looked into one of the uncovered windows curiously at the front of the house, as Amon went to the door and knocked firmly. Receiving no response, he knocked again with added force, practically banging his fist on the door, and finally causing the shade and window of a neighboring house to open. 

An old woman peered out of the window, glaring daggers at Amon. "_Smettila di far rumore!_" she scolded.

"_Scusi,_" Robin addressed the woman politely, having joined her partner on the porch leading to the front door. "_Noi Mario Benedetto cerchiamo._"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "_Perché?_" she asked suspiciously.

As Amon watched, Robin explained their fictitious relation to him and their desire to speak to him or to colleagues of his.

The old woman hesitated, sizing the two of them up with her aged eyes, before disappearing into the house. She resurfaced at the window moments later with a slip of paper, on which were hastily scrawled words. "_Qui,_" she said abruptly, and Robin came towards the window to accept it.

She looked back up at the older woman's face, and saw a glimmer of trust despite the skeptical frown. "_Molto grazie,_" Robin whispered in gratitude.

***

Amon was getting visibly frustrated. It was taking too long to find the person they needed to, he felt....it was only a question of time before they would be spotted and end up being confronted by a SOLOMON agent. 

They had found the home that the neighbor had directed them to, and it had indeed been the family's home; but to their dismay, the only person available had been Benedetto's widow, an older woman in her late fifties who had known absolutely nothing of her late husband's research. After careful consideration, she had passed along the address and location of one of Benedetto's colleagues whom she had just been in contact with weeks before.

It had confirmed in Amon's mind all along what he had suspected, if Benedetto's research had been half as important as Toudou's. _He was already long since dead._ SOLOMON had made certain of that.

They walked on towards the next address, having left the truck along a side street, and turned a corner to head up another road. The neighborhood they were in now was not as nice as the ones before it, and Robin studied the street map carefully to assess their location.

"Turn left up here," she said, motioning to another corner. "It is the fifth house on the right." She set about folding the map with her delicate hands.

Amon walked on rigidly, keeping a moderate distance between them. All afternoon he had been acutely aware---too acutely, at times---of her presence next to him; her soft hand accidentally brushing against his as they walked, the scent of her skin and her unbound hair as they pored over the map, the gentle light in her eyes when she looked at him to tell him something. Of course she did everything unintentionally, without a single calculating bone in her entire body; and knowing this served only to fascinate him further. 

He watched from out of the corner of his eye as she tended to the map, handling it as though it were a precious artifact, carefully running her fingers along the seams. It was further proof of the inadvertent elegance that she possessed, the grace with which she handled everything and everyone around her. 

She was not what the general public would consider strikingly beautiful---although his own opinion on that matter had begun to change, even before she began consistently leaving her hair unbound---nor was she curvaceous, albeit he suspected what svelte curves she did have were hidden underneath her camouflaging pilgrim's dress. Robin was none of those things, outwardly, that normally brought women to the attention of the opposite sex; and yet men---of all ages and social groups---could not seem to keep their eyes off of her. He had never noticed, as her partner in Japan, how often men on the street leered in her direction; but Japan was much different culturally than Italy, and Italian men seemed to have no problem making their intentions visible for all to see. As a result he'd found himself studying her, as discreetly as possible, to figure out what it was about her that was so distracting...at least, that was his excuse.

And what he had deduced, after careful observation, was that every single one of her everyday, mundane movements and actions were all directed by the same refined elegance, the same complex and subtle sensuality, that she displayed now in folding the paper that she held in her hands.

_Jesus, she's folding a damn map and it's turning you on._

"Amon."

He blinked forcefully to clear his head, as he concurrently realized they were standing before the front door of the designated house. Robin was standing patiently at his side, her head slightly turned towards him. He lifted his hand and knocked firmly against the door with his fist.

An older man hesitantly answered the door, looking at them both on his doorstep. "_Chi è?_" he asked, uncertainly.

"Vincenzo Matteo?" Amon asked in stern tones, and the man nodded, somewhat fearful.

Robin smiled gently in an attempt to calm the older man. "_Noi domandarti riguardo a Mario Benedetto vogliamo,_" she said in her calm, soothing voice. "_Per favore?_"

The man seemed to relax under Robin's hopeful green gaze. He bowed his head, opening the door further. "_Avanti,_" he said to them softly, bidding them to enter.

***

Robin and Amon drank from their offered cups of coffee, seated in Vincenzo's living room, as the man spoke while seated directly across from them.

"Mario and I worked together for a long time," he told them. "We initially founded FZ Genetics together, and gained notoriety for being the best Witch Genome scientists in the industry." His eyes shifted downwards momentarily. "That was how SOLOMON found us, and acquired our company.

"At first we were very excited. SOLOMON had agreed to fund our projects for at least ten years, and we envisioned together all of these magnificent experiments that would be tied into the research, based on our years of study of the origins of the genes; all to benefit mankind in various ways. It was our intention to utilize our knowledge of the Witch genome to improve humanity, to make ourselves better through genetic engineering.

"But like anything else in life, the motivations became warped. As we discovered more and more about SOLOMON's true purposes, what they were after---we realized there was no way we could do the kind of experiments we wanted to. Not when we figured out how much they actually despised Witches, even though they employed them; and how they wanted to rid the earth of every one of them."

"How did that affect your research?" Amon asked.

"SOLOMON wanted us to do something that we thought was very dangerous," Vincenzo told him. "Instead of projects involving small and moderate genetic alterations of human genes, they wanted to fully create their own Witches---completely engineered and designed to be all-powerful---to use as Hunters. They knew that not many Witches would voluntarily become Hunters for their organization....and they were in desperate need of powerful Craft-Users for that purpose."

"An army of genetically engineered Craft-Users?" Robin asked, stunned.

"_Si,_" Vincenzo responded. "With the powers given to them by God, or so they commanded everyone to believe....that was always at the forefront; they wanted to resurrect God Himself."

Robin was disbelieving. Resurrect God?

"SOLOMON had many such lofty goals. They wanted to create a Hunter army to eliminate the population of rogue Witches that were not under their control." He scoffed, lowering his eyes as he shook his head, disapprovingly. "They thought they could train these people like dogs....induce a traumatic event early on in their young lives to make them hate their own kind, and stay loyal to the organization."

Amon felt his blood running cold at the spoken words. It was not so different than SOLOMON's usual methods of acquiring Hunters....but the words stung him bitterly with their impact on his own young memories. _Traumatic event....make them hate their own kind._

He sat forward, a look of determination on his face. "Was Syunji Matoko one of the participants in these experiments?" Robin turned to look at her partner, suddenly realizing the cause of his outburst, before she returned her attention to Vincenzo.

"Matoko Syunji," Vincenzo whispered, recollecting the name. "Japanese woman. _Si._ She was one of the first." He looked back up at the two guests before him. "Did you know her?"

Robin swung an inconspicuous glance at the dark-haired hunter beside her, watching his mask slide into place....knowing that underneath, he was in pain.

"_Si,_" Amon responded softly, narrowing his eyes.

"She was a very beautiful woman," Vincenzo said thoughtfully, not realizing Amon was discreetly hanging onto every word. "She was very sad, though. She was a Seed, her identity having been uncovered by SOLOMON when she was young; and she had fallen in love with---and married---a powerful Witch whom SOLOMON was tracking, and trying to Hunt." He stopped, to shake his head briefly. "They could not Hunt her, as her powers had not awoken yet; but as collateral, they used her and her husband's unborn child....they modified her child's genetic makeup to be of the design of the Hunter that they so badly wanted. They figured, if they could not have the father Witch, at least they could ensure that they had the son."

Robin's mouth was agape by this point, and she slowly set her coffee cup down on the table before her, trying to disguise her unsteady, shaking hands. She dared not glance at her partner next to her now.

_Oh....Amon._ This had to be more painful than even he could bear.

Vincenzo went on, apparently oblivious to the reactions of his guests. "Despite the cruelty of the organization, we had high hopes for the first experimental project. The first genetically-engineered Witch, in existence....it was a scientific feat we did not think achievable. But strangely, when the child was born, he did not exhibit any powers. Attempts were made to induce his awakening, all the way up until the child was six or seven years old....but to no avail. Mario's group had started on several more such projects, before the work was suddenly terminated. SOLOMON spent years afterwards attempting to cover up the experiments they had done, to avoid any information leaking to the global society at large....they had violated so many laws, it was beyond unforgivable." He looked up suddenly at Amon, as though he recognized something, and his aged eyes narrowed in thought.

"That boy....Matoko's child....he would be perhaps around your age, by now," he mused distractedly, not noticing how Amon's posture stiffened at his words.

Robin found the strength to speak up, in a subtle effort to change the immediate topic. "That was when Mario Benedetto disappeared, _si?_"

"_Si,_" Vincenzo's eyes saddened. "Many of my former colleagues, who were directly working on the projects with Mario, disappeared mysteriously." He looked down. "Mario was a good man. Even though the organization demanded that he do these terrible things to innocent people, he always felt remorse....and he tried to make things better for them, in some ways. That was what his protégé, Hiroshi Toudou, attempted to do, as well. "

Robin visibly straightened, fascinated by the sudden mention of Toudou. "How did he try to make things better?"

Vincenzo gave a strange smile. "Let us say...that both of them were determined not to let SOLOMON have the final say in everything." Robin looked at him curiously.

Suddenly the older man's eyes flickered, as though he were remembering something, and he rose from his chair. "I show you something. Stay here, I'll be right back." He walked slowly off into an adjacent room.

Robin turned to look hesitantly at Amon beside her. The dark hunter was lost in thought, his gaze lowered to the floor, as he fought to control what she was sure were painful and unpleasant emotions. His arms were rigid, his hands clutching the dark fabric of his pants at the knees.

Gently, she reached out to him as he sat next to her, and covered one of his larger hands with her own.

Instead of pushing her hand away or ignoring her gesture---as she half expected him to do in response, knowing that he would not repeat the affection he'd shown her the previous night---she felt his hand slowly turn, opening to hers, and his fingers entwine with her own. A warm flush, beginning in her chest, radiated pleasantly throughout her whole body at the contact. She looked back up at his face, thinking perhaps she had imagined it, the softening of his features....but she couldn't be sure.

Vincenzo came back into the room, barely taking notice of their joined hands as he carried a file of papers in with him. _Such a nice-looking couple, despite an age difference,_ he noted to himself distractedly, before sitting back down in his chair.

"I have told you much already about the aims and goals of Mario's research," he told them, holding the file. "But here are the details, the specifics of the experiments they were trying to do. It may be a little easier to understand what is written here...the terminology is a little less, how shall we say, scientific." He handed the file to Amon, who reached across the table to accept it from him. 

"Vincenzo," Robin asked with genuine concern, still holding onto Amon's hand, "aren't you afraid of what SOLOMON will do if they know you are passing on this information?"

Vincenzo smiled again sadly, and shook his head at the young chestnut-haired Witch. "Nothing frightens me anymore, _signorina._ I am too old to worry about SOLOMON coming after me now....but if they do, they do."

***

A short while later, Robin and Amon stood to take their leave. They walked to the door, Vincenzo following them to bid them goodbye. Dusk was beginning to fall outside, the air having grown cooler; and the trio parted on the porch of Vincenzo's home.

"_Molto grazie,_" Robin whispered, and Amon, still overwhelmed with what had been laid out before him, silently nodded to express his vote of thanks. 

Vincenzo smiled gently at them again. It felt so familiar, looking at the two of them; the dark, brooding man and the young slip of a girl in such religious attire....he felt vaguely as though he'd met them before, somehow. He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and passed the errant thought off as evidence of his sentimental old age.

"_Stammi bene,_" he offered, giving a wave, as the two began to make their way down the steps of his front porch. Both of them looked back up to where he stood in the doorway, seeing them off.

Without warning, the ground began to lurch and shake violently underneath their feet. Amon held fast to the young Witch next to him, supporting her as she cried out in surprise, and at the same time he looked back up into the doorway of Vincenzo's home....

....In time to see the man crushed to death by a pillar of rock that had pushed up out of the floor of his house, flattening his bloodied body against the sturdy frame of the door. Vincenzo did not even have time to scream.

Robin looked up in the direction Amon's eyes had gone, and she cried out in whispered terror, her face grim with despair. "_Vincenzo!_"

Amon spun around to face the street before them, and saw them then.

Two Hunters.

"Robin!" He shouted, drawing his gun. He managed to fire two shots at the male Hunters, both of them effectively dodging the bullets, before he felt the rock beneath him pushing up under his feet. The force of it threw him backwards onto the pavement.

"Amon," she had time to whisper, and instantly threw a barrier of fire around him, blocking further attacks on him as he lay sprawled out on the ground. He curled his body inwards to protect himself from the flames.

She directed the full force of her Craft at the two Hunters before her, the fire behind her eyes sparking into life; but was surprised to see both of them moving in unison, creating a strange kind of shield with their combined Crafts of earth and water. To her surprise, the barrier repelled her flame.

"_Come?_" she asked herself, incredulously, and attacked again, throwing her fire against them with all of her will.

Once again, the Hunters repelled it. _It can't be,_ she thought with panic, as she felt her energy ebbing. _Am I powerless against two Hunters with such Crafts?_

Amon had recovered, and was aiming through the barrier of flames surrounding him at the two Craft-users. "Robin! You have to disrupt their shield!" He fired again at the Hunters, the rune-covered bullets unable to pierce the barrier they had created around themselves.

_Perhaps when they strike again, they will need to lower their shield to do so,_ he thought desperately. He saw that Robin had begun to pant for breath, probably from the combination of both fear and exertion, and he realized that if they both started to panic, they were done for.

Both were so preoccupied with their plight, they failed to notice the storm clouds slowly gathering in the formerly clear and cloudless sky above them.

Robin directed her flame again, watching in helpless frustration as it broke harmlessly against the barrier in front of the Hunters; and a split second later, their shield dissolved and one of them aimed their Craft.

Amon had no time to even call out her name as he saw the jagged edges of rock hurtling towards her. She had lost concentration momentarily, and now she was defenseless. He leapt forward, out of the barrier of flame, in a futile effort to shield her himself.

Before he could reach her, he saw what he could only think to describe as a bolt of lightning, flashing directly in the path of the rock that had been aimed at her. The jagged earth crumbled from the force, falling to the ground.

Robin recovered, and realizing the Hunters were distracted, threw her fire in full force against the earth Craft-user. His screams echoed in the night air as his body disintegrated in the flames. The water Craft-user realized he was suddenly fighting solo, and turned to flee.

The young Fire Witch moved to finish him, flames alight in her eyes, but she was stopped by a low voice speaking behind her.

"Don't waste any more energy on him, _tesoro,_" the thick Italian accent chided.

Both she and Amon turned to face a man standing casually in the middle of the street, the lapels of his long navy blue coat and wisps of his short blond hair fluttering gently in the breeze surrounding him.

Amon aimed his pistol menacingly.

"_Per favore,_ put it away, _signore,_" he said, a flicker of humor evident in his features. "Didn't I help you just now?"

Robin looked into his ice-blue eyes as he turned them on her, their intense gaze feeling as though it were embedding itself in her mind. She instantly recalled the eyes she had seen in her dream, and the significance of the bolt of lightning they had witnessed a moment ago.

_Dio di Tempesta._

"My name is Seth," he said, walking towards them slowly, his hands still buried in the pockets of his coat. He removed them, spreading his arms wide as if to placate Amon, who still had his gun trained on the man. "I promise you, I will not harm you. I only wished to assist you in your fight against SOLOMON."

Amon did not lower his weapon. "How do you know _we_ are not with SOLOMON?" he challenged, his arms rigid.

Seth laughed, a low, rich sound; and Robin felt her guard being slowly lowered against the strange man. 

"What reason would SOLOMON Hunters have to attack their own?" he asked reasonably. "I and my comrades had been tracking those two Hunters all day today, and finally chased them here. We had no idea that they had actually been Hunting someone." As he spoke, two people---a man and a woman---exited from a dark car parked two houses further down the length of the street. Both were similarly dressed as Seth, in dark coats, with a polished, professional look to their attire.

"Who are you?" Robin asked, her gaze still fixed on the blond man as he approached them further.

"We," he responded, as the man and woman from the car came up to join him, "are members of a local Coven, _tesoro._" She was again slightly startled by the affectionate moniker he had called her. "You could say we do to SOLOMON what they have been doing to our kind for centuries...." His blue eyes flashed, almost mischievously. "We _Hunt_ them."

"I don't believe you," Amon growled, not relinquishing his hold on the pistol he still had pointed at Seth. "No one has the resources to stand alone against the organization."

Seth acknowledged his words with a nod. "_Giusto,_" he said. "It would be very difficult to acquire such resources....that is, unless your group had funding from some very high places...as well as had a mole within the organization itself, keeping you informed in advance of all of their moves." His voice was smug.

Robin was hesitant to judge Seth as Amon did, upon hearing of their mole. _SOLOMON is an organization completely divided into smaller factions,_ she realized. _It would be so easy for an outside mole to slip in unnoticed._

Seth stopped where he stood, before Amon and Robin, his hands still spread harmlessly out to his sides. "You realize, that you have me at a disadvantage. You have still not explained to me who _you_ are. _Per favore,_ tell me your names."

Both Amon and Robin were silent; he out of distrust, she out of respect for her partner's distrust.

Seth chuckled to himself. "_Vedo._ I understand if this is too much to absorb at this moment. You have just fought, you are weary, and mistrustful. I do not blame you." His expression relaxed to reveal something akin to sympathy, before he reached into his coat pocket. Amon retrained his gun.

Seth offered his other hand in supplication, revealing a small card in the hand that had gone into his pocket. "This is how you can get in contact with me. We are still a small group, looking for additional members to assist us; particularly those with formidable powers, such as yours." He looked directly at Robin, and again she felt the ice-blue eyes piercing her with their gaze. "There is safety in numbers, _tesoro,_" he finished quietly.

He knelt gracefully, laying the card face-up on the pavement where he stood, before standing again with a slow ease.

"Consider it, _mi amici._" He touched his forehead in a gentle salute. "_Ciao._" 

As Robin and Amon watched, he and the other two Witches headed back to the dark car parked alongside the street, disappearing behind the tinted windows. The car rumbled to life and turned, disappearing down the road.

It took several moments for both of them to finally relax their postures and breathe deeply.

***

Robin approached the card lying on the pavement, kneeling to pick it up. Amon approached her as she did, re-holstering his gun as he reached her side.

"_Grosseto,_" she read softly on the card. 

"_Nani?_" he asked, and she looked up at him in response.

"It is a town nearby; it is about halfway between here and Sovana," she said. Her eyes washed over him now as he stood before her, scraped and bruised, and she reached a slender hand up to touch his forehead. "Amon, you're hurt...."

He shrugged lightly away from her touch, still shaken by the recent events that had unfolded. "_Daijoubu,_" he responded quickly, and she quickly disguised the wound she felt at his deflection.

She steeled herself again.

"Amon, I think we should consider our options," she said softly, looking into his dark gray eyes and seeing the concern there.

He turned his eyes away from her view. "Don't tell me you're considering running off to join that man's Coven," his voice said, heavy with warning. "We don't know anything about him. We can't trust him."

"We can't do this by ourselves." Her sad voice was gently insistent. "We can't drag Jana any further into this. Look at what they did to Vincenzo, without a second thought." Her green eyes began to well with emotion, and he found he could not tear his gaze away as the shifting emerald lights held him captive. "I could not bear it if they harmed her, Amon," she whispered.

Once again, he was faced with an agonizing decision....and deep down, he realized it had already been made.

***

They entered the farmhouse, the atmosphere surrounding them heavy with shadows.

Jana noticed immediately. "_Bambina?_" she asked, curiously.

"Nonna, we have something to tell you." She bolstered her courage as she faced her grandmother's inquisitive gaze. She hated what she was about to do.

She folded her hands in front of her, lacing her fingers together. "We are going to leave Sovana."

.

* * *

Next chapter:

A painful departure....Shrouded in the safety of the Covenant.....Building the bridges of trust. The Hunted once again becomes the Hunter. Chapter 11.

************************

Italian/Japanese translations!

Hai: [Japanese] yes  
nani: [Japanese] what  
Si, lo so: yes, I know  
Daijoubu: [Japanese] it's all right  
Andiamo: let's go  
Che cos'è quelli?: what are those?  
smettila di far rumore!: stop making that noise!  
scusi: excuse me  
Noi Mario Benedetto cerchiamo: we are looking for Mario Benedetto  
Perché: why?  
Qui: here  
molto grazie: thank you very much  
chi è?: who is it?  
noi domandarti riguardo a....vogliamo: we wish to ask you about...   
avanti: come  
signorina: miss  
stammi bene: take care  
come? : what?  
tesoro: treasure, "darling"  
per favore: please  
signore: sir  
Dio di Tempesta: God of Storms  
Giusto: good point  
Vedo: I see  
mi amici: my friends  
ciao: bye  



	12. Chapter 11: Hunter

A/N: Hmmmm. Back again! This story just won't quit, nor will my determination to get it finished...even in the face of some severe writer's block. ^^; So, on with the next chapter!

Longer, more detailed Author's Note at bottom. ^^ Enjoy.

***************************************

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 11: Hunter**

.

* * *

Robin packed her small travel bag quietly, her keen hearing attuned to the room across the hallway from hers, where she knew Amon was busily doing the same.

Jana was in the kitchen, seated alone at the table, silent.

The young Witch stopped to stare forlornly at her open door, realizing how hard this was for her grandmother to bear. Jana had sworn to protect them from SOLOMON, had assured them over and over that they were not in danger, as long as her powers could shield their location....

But they _were_ in danger...and not just them alone anymore. After having witnessed the terrifying and violent end to Vincenzo's life the previous day, Robin could not bear to dwell on what would happen if SOLOMON's Hunters found Jana. She had powers, but they were not of attack, nor defense....she would surely suffer at their hands. The very thought of her _nonna's_ death made Robin shudder with despair.

_Why did Juliano send us to her?_, she could not help but ask herself, as she continued to pack her belongings. _Didn't he realize that SOLOMON would utilize magick to find us? That it would put her in danger?....How could he **not** have realized that, being a Priest within the organization?_ The idea that Juliano could have knowingly put Jana's life at risk served to unsettle her already distracted mind further.

She finished packing her bag and carried it before her out of the room, depositing it by the front door before entering the kitchen. Jana looked up as she walked in.

The old woman's dark green eyes were sad, limpid pools of grief as they looked upon her. Robin felt her heart begin to ache.

As much as she knew it was the right thing to do, it pained her as much as it did Jana to leave.

"Nonna," she whispered, going to her and putting her arms around her grandmother's shoulders, as she had done the day before upon bearing the news. She knelt by Jana's chair, burying her face in her grandmother's neck.

"Shhh," Jana said softly, encircling Robin in her arms. "Don't cry, _bambina._ I will be all right---it's you and _sua consorte_ who must be careful, now." She held the girl back by her shoulders, brushing the young Witch's tears aside with the back of her fingers.

"_Mi perdoni,_" Robin whispered, sniffling, and Jana made a soothing sound in her throat as she brushed long chestnut wisps out of her granddaughter's eyes.

"_Bambina,_ there is nothing to forgive." The older woman's smile was sad. She suddenly lifted her eyes away from Robin, and Robin realized Amon had entered the foyer, looking into the kitchen. She brushed her tears away impatiently from her eyes.

He stopped at the sight before him, her tears weakening his resolve. _Perhaps this is a mistake. She feels it, too._

Before he could say anything after setting his bag down at the door, Jana spoke up. "Are you bringing _la gatta_ along with you?" As if on cue, Bast appeared at his feet, curling herself lazily around his boot.

"_Si,_" he responded quickly, and Robin turned to him in surprise. She hadn't expected him to develop an attachment to any animal, no matter how furry or cute. Amon continued to surprise her.

Jana sighed, standing, as did Robin. "It is best that you are off, then," she said, going to the kitchen counter. "I fixed a basket of food that you should bring with you, in case you are hungry later." She brought the basket to Robin and handed it to her. To the young Witch's amazement, it was stuffed full of fruits and breads; figs, apples, and citrus fruits, as well as sweetbreads. 

Jana went to Amon, who stood by both bags, his eyes belying his stoic facial features. She saw the hint of sadness in the gray depths as she stood before him, as well as uncertainty.

The older Witch put her arms around him, and after a moment's hesitation, he returned the embrace.

"Watch over her," Jana whispered against him. "Remember that you have a choice to make." She stepped back from the embrace, looking into his eyes again. 

"Do not be afraid."

Still unsure of her meaning, Amon nevertheless gave her an imperceptible nod.

He picked up the bags as Jana returned to her granddaughter, whose eyes were shining again with unshed tears.

"We will come back to visit, as soon as we can," the young Witch started, and her breath hitched again uncontrollably.

"Hush, _bambina,_" Jana whispered, and embraced Robin again fiercely. "_Buon viaggio._" 

The chestnut-haired girl nodded over her grandmother's shoulder, and then went to the door, scooping the cat up in her free arm, the basket in the other.

With one last look into Jana's home, Robin and Amon departed.

***

It was easy for them to find the township of Grosseto. It was a similar in some ways to Sovana, in that the roads were dirt or gravel, unpaved; and the buildings and architecture looked older than that of the bustling inland town of Siena. But Sovana paled in size compared to the area they saw before them.

It was a large province, with small towns sprawled out along the coast and across the countryside, all framed on the southern inland side by hills and mountains. There was ample farmland, as it was only slightly less inland from the coast of the _Mare Mediterraneo_ than Sovana, and therefore just as green. Olive groves and vineyards dotted the landscape, and off to the far right of the thriving city there was a large river, which Robin knew from having studied maps to be the Ombrone. Jana had said that the fertile river was responsible for having made Grosseto into a successful agricultural town in previous centuries.

Robin, with the gray cat sitting patiently on her lap, was busy looking at the surrounding land and architecture. They drove through the main square of Grosseto, where the _Palazzo della Provincia_ stood, a red-and-cream stone building that looked to have been built in the thirteenth century. It looked more like a fortified castle, framed by the soft green hills, than a legislative building, she thought. 

"I'm not seeing the street," Amon said, a hint of irritation evident in his voice. "The street we're supposed to turn onto is not anywhere around here."

Robin quickly put Bast down on the floor of the truck, to the cat's protest. She unfolded the map and scoured it, belatedly realizing she had shirked her duty as navigator; and looked up at the street and back down at the map again carefully, before furrowing her delicate brow in confusion. 

"Amon, it says the street is right past the _Palazzo_," she said, looking at him over the unfolded paper. "We must have driven past it."

He prudently stifled the urge to mutter an obscenity, instead calmly pulling into an empty driveway and turning the truck around. They headed back the way they'd came, but found no street signs or markings of any kind near the _Palazzo_.

"You're sure it's there?" he asked, his own eyes searching aimlessly.

Robin pointed at a narrow, unpaved road flanking the side of the red and cream building. "That must be it."

They took the steep, narrow road upwards into the hills, past the square of the township, the truck sounding as though it was straining to make it up the dirt path. Amon switched gears roughly and downshifted, trying to gain more momentum. The jerking motion of the truck going into lower gear surprised Robin, and with a gasp she dropped the unfolded map, falling backwards into her seat, her startled eyes glancing over at the driver. Bast gave a similarly startled yelp.

Robin thought she detected a faint smirk amidst the chiseled features. "Hold on," he warned.

They finally broke through the cover of trees to see the remainder of the dirt road ahead of them, and where it ended. At the crest of the hill stood a beautiful stone castle.

Robin sucked in her breath. It looked to be as old as the white cathedral in Siena---from the thirteenth century---surrounded by an enclave of pristine greenery. It appeared to be at least four stories high, of dark gray stone, composed of a large main building with two other smaller buildings adjacent to it. 

She stared up at it, openmouthed, as Amon pulled the truck up to a vacant driveway off to the side of the building. He looked up at the stone building himself, then over at her, noting her distraction. "_Doushita?_" he asked, concerned.

She turned back to face him, shaking her head. "_Nandemonai,_" she said softly, to reassure him, before looking again back up at the castle before her. The familiarity of the stones and architecture sparked an old memory within her.

_Il convento._

Amon took hold of their bags as they exited the truck, and Robin scooped Bast up into her arms. The gray cat was docile in her embrace, cradled against the chest of her pilgrim's smock. They cautiously approached the building's entrance.

Seth met them at the door as they made it up the shallow steps toward him, a wide smile gracing his face and his blue eyes sparkling. He was smartly dressed, in gray tweed slacks and a high-collared, long-sleeved shirt. He looked to Amon as though he were about to attend a business meeting of some sort. 

"_Mi amici,_" Seth greeted them, his hands enthusiastically spread wide. "You've come. I knew that you would." He reached to take one of the bags that Amon held, and after a moment's hesitation, Amon surrendered it to him.

"Sela," the blond man turned to a woman standing behind him, "please take our guests' bags to the room we've provided---"

Before he could finish, Amon had already cut him off. "We will require separate rooms," he said stoically, and Robin ducked her head slightly from where she stood off to his side. The delicate movement did not go unnoticed by Seth.

The blond Witch looked from her to him, and smiled in a manner that slightly unnerved Amon. "Of course you do." He turned again to the brunette by his side. "Sela, _camera singola per ciasuna, per favore._"

The young woman with short brunette hair and soft brown eyes, dressed in dark pants and a sleek, sleeveless earth-toned top, stepped forward to introduce herself. "_Mi chiamo Sela,_" she said, a friendly light in her eyes, extending her hand towards Robin. Something in her hair and eyes reminded Robin of Miho, and the chestnut-haired Witch instantly warmed to Sela.

"Robin Sena," she returned, shifting Bast up against her shoulder to return the gesture.

Amon discreetly stole a glance at Seth at the mention of Robin's name, to ascertain any recognition in the other Witch's eyes; but saw none. Seth turned to face him. "And you, _signore_?"

"Amon," he replied simply. Seth made a move to extend his hand in a gesture of goodwill, but when he saw Amon had no intention of taking it, he stopped himself and nodded at the dark hunter curtly.

Seth leaned over in Robin's direction to get a look at Bast. "_ Che cos'è questo?_" he asked, smiling. "_Una gatta bella._" He moved his hand in to pet her at Robin's shoulder; but the cat's ears flew back and she struck out suddenly with a clawed paw.

Robin made a startled noise as the cat suddenly leapt from her arms, landing on the marble of the foyer, and trotted off down a hallway. Seth looked on after Bast, rubbing his hand that she had swiped at, the smile that had once graced his face nowhere in sight.

"Playful kitty!" Sela remarked in an amused voice, but Robin bowed her head in consternation.

"_Scusi,_" she whispered. "She does not usually do that." She frowned minutely to herself.

Sela laughed it off and, holding the bags, gestured for Robin to follow her. "_Avanti,_" she said, smiling. "I'll show you to your rooms." She walked off in the direction Bast had run, and Robin, after another glance at her partner, followed her.

Amon moved to follow the two women, but Seth stopped him with his arm. "Amon, I would like to discuss the details of your stay with us in my office, _per favore._" He moved to indicate the direction, and Amon followed him down the hallway, glancing once more at Robin's retreating form as he did.

***

He followed Seth into a dark office at the end of the hallway, stylishly done in dark mahogany wood, in contrast to the ancient feel of the outer shell of the castle. 

"Close it, _per favore,_" Seth said, turning on lights and motioning towards the door as he moved on to the end of the room. He seated himself in a comfortable desk chair, immediately selecting a cigar from a box on the corner of the desk, and raising it in offering to Amon, who still stood near the entrance of the room like a fixed statue. "_Gradisce un sigaro?_" he asked politely.

Amon shook his head, fighting the urge to clasp his hands behind his back as he had so often in Zaizen's presence. Even though it was obvious that Seth was in charge of this operation, he did not want to grant any semblance of authority to the male Witch yet. He could not know precisely, but Seth had to be at least a couple of years younger than himself, perhaps only twenty-four or so. His face had a youthful, boyish look; but his eyes seemed older, belied some hidden awareness. Amon supposed it was a trait inherent in all Witches who were aware of what they were; the knowledge of that alone would age someone beyond their years.

Even so, he was not quick to trust. He walked to stand rigidly in the middle of the room, his hands at his sides.

The blond man lit the cigar, taking a long puff on it before exhaling and speaking again. "Welcome to _il Castello di Vicarello,_" he said, with a relaxed smile. "Please, Amon, have a seat." He motioned to a chair in front of the desk.

Amon shrugged. "I will stand."

Seth inhaled on his cigar again, watching him closely. "I see that you are wary of me, which is perfectly understandable. We hardly know each other." He exhaled as he spoke, the breath producing long waves of smoke that curled into the air. "But if we are to work together, that will change, with time." He sat up straight in his desk chair. "I would like to go over with you what you can expect from working with us....as well as what we expect from you and the _signorina_."

Amon gave a brief nod, as he watched Seth rest the cigar on a glass tray. The blond man folded his hands together on the desk before him.

"You have come here, because you have nowhere else to go; and as Hunted Witches, it is too dangerous for you both to be by yourselves. _Si?_" Seth paused for an answer.

"_Si._" It was best not to make any mention of Jana, Amon thought to himself.

"We can provide you with safe, anonymous harbor; weapons, at your disposal, should you need them; transportation; funds to cover cost of living expenses." He held Amon's stern gaze. "That is, provided you perform a service for us."

"To Hunt SOLOMON agents," Amon finished, and the blond man nodded. "Where do you get the funding to perform such activities? How can you afford---" his eyes briefly swept around the office, which was lavishly decorated, "---all this?"

Seth chuckled and picked up his cigar again. "Already the questions start, Amon." He puffed on the cigar, exhaling before he spoke. "To begin with, I told you yesterday that we had funding from very high places. We are privately sponsored by some very important people, both in _Italia_, and internationally."

"Internationally," Amon repeated, curious.

"If you must know, our largest sponsors are in the United States and Britain," Seth continued, exhaling smoke again. "Some very rich people are there, who don't want SOLOMON's sustained influence to grow, particularly in those countries where there are different attitudes towards people of our kind. Surely you know by now, that the _best_ Hunters, those with the strongest Crafts, are trained right here in Italy?" 

"I had an idea, yes," Amon responded neutrally.

"So it is in their interests to provide financial assistance to a group such as ourselves, who are dedicated to eliminating SOLOMON's most elite Hunters, one by one." 

Most of what he said seemed to make sense to Amon. But something nagged at him. "So how did these international sponsors find you---a band of rogue Witches?"

He detected a slight flicker of impatience in the clear blue eyes. "We were recruited," Seth said, evenly. "Do you not think that there are other Covens, elsewhere in the world, like ours? They decided to form an Italian team to take charge of the issue here." He puffed again on the cigar. 

"I find it interesting that I never knew of any such organized Covens of Witches in Europe or elsewhere in the world," Amon ventured, his voice betraying hints of ice, "being that I was employed by the very organization you struggle against."

Seth's eyes flashed with moderate surprise, before he schooled his features. "What country are you from? You speak English, but your accent is unusual."

"Japan," Amon replied stiffly.

The blond man smirked as he inhaled from his cigar once more. "Well, _signore,_ that explains it, then. We have no such group functioning in Japan."

"I had _extremely_ high security clearance." 

"Tell me, Amon," Seth began, and Amon could again detect signs of impatience. "What would make me believe that a former SOLOMON Hunter such as yourself should be trusted? Why should we believe that _you_ will not betray _us_ and return to them?"

Amon was silent for a long moment, long enough for Seth to realize something.

"It's _her,_ isn't it," the blond Witch said lowly, almost in a whisper. "_La signorina._ You gave up your position with SOLOMON for her." He smiled then, his blue eyes flashing, and again Amon found himself unnerved by it. The smile had hardly seemed benevolent.

Seth's eyebrow was raised. "_Che romantico!_" His voice was decidedly teasing, and Amon was quick to correct him.

"It is more complicated than that," the dark hunter asserted, almost as if to convince himself. "You have misunderstood."

"It would seem so," Seth noted slowly, eyeing him with detached curiosity, before flicking the ash on his cigar into the glass tray. His expression then changed back to his previous relaxed, nonchalant air. "Really, _signore,_ I would have thought you would be more interested in the _pertinent_ questions, such as what type of stipend you might receive for your participation in the Hunts, what kind of transportation we will be able to provide for you..."

"Those are of no real importance to myself or my partner." Amon's demeanor was stoic.

"You say that now," Seth said knowingly, grounding out the remainder of his cigar in the glass tray. "But you have not seen anything yet."

***

After showing Amon his suite in an upstairs wing---which had been rustic, but lavishly decorated, with stone floors and walls reflecting the outside architecture of the castle, complete with a wood-burning fireplace, separate bedroom, and a view of the Mediterranean coastline---Seth brought him back downstairs to view Robin's accommodations. She and Sela were wandering about inside the suite, which on the lower level was done in the same stone architecture as Amon's. On a raised hardwood loft, coming nowhere near the high vaulted ceiling, was a beautiful four-poster bed, done in white with a white gossamer canopy. Amon found himself momentarily distracted, unable to tear his eyes from the pristine white comforters and down-stuffed pillows.

_Damn._

"Amon," Robin beseeched him, interrupting his not-so-pristine thoughts, "_avanti,_ come look at the bath." She led him by the hand, he strangely allowing her, to another room. Again, the architecture of the room was the same rustic, earthy stone---save for the enormous porcelain and marble tub with spigots of polished bronze, candles and bath soaps surrounding it on all sides.

Robin was positively aglow. "_Che bella!_" she whispered excitedly, clasping her hands together in front of her. 

Amon felt stifled just looking at it. It seemed everywhere he turned in her room, there was something else to distract him.

Sela was in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the wall. "_Bella, si?_" she asked Robin, smiling. "Will be nice to take a long, hot bath and relax in later, _si?_" With that, Amon stalked out of the room, his posture rigid.

He re-entered the living room, where Seth was waiting for them. Robin and Sela followed close behind. "Accommodations to your liking, _tesoro_?" Seth asked, and Robin bowed her head in appreciation.

"_Si, grazie._ I still have not found our cat, though," she said softly, and Sela moved to reassure her.

"We will find _la gatta,_ don't worry," she told the chestnut-haired Witch gently. "She is somewhere in the building, she can't have gone anywhere far." Robin nodded gratefully.

Seth turned again to Amon. "There's one more thing you haven't seen, that I believe will seal your fate here with us," he intoned, a smirk hinting at his lips and his blue eyes dancing. "Come this way."

Robin and Amon glanced at each other.

***

In the underground parking garage, Seth led them towards a row of vehicles, taking a key out of his pocket and deactivating an alarm. A chirping sound reverberated through the dimly-lit garage, and the taillights of a dark car flashed on and off.

"This is your transportation," Seth grinned, holding his hand out to display the car, as Amon stopped in his tracks. Robin approached the car cautiously. "This year's new model BMW 760Li sedan, V12, six-liter engine, 450 horsepower, complete with navigation system, all-leather interior, and _manual transmission._" His grin widened further. "Our sponsors were feeling generous this year."

Despite his neutral outward appearance, Amon could hardly believe his eyes. This was nearly unreal. He stood as if rooted to the earth, staring at the vehicle, as Robin peered into the dark glass windows. 

"Amon, it has a sunroof, just as your old car," she said softly, with child-like wonderment. "It's beautiful."

Seth held up the key, dangling from the alarm remote, and handed it to Amon, who received it without expression. "It's yours," he said, his blue eyes again displaying benevolent humor. "Wait until you try it out on the open road....you won't believe what it can do." 

Amon looked down at the key in his hand, his thoughts coiling helplessly upon themselves. Part of him wanted to believe the good luck they had just stumbled upon, believe that they were now somewhat safer than before....but another part of him wanted to jump into the car with Robin and drive as fast as they could away from this place. He didn't think of himself nearly as intuitive as Robin; and yet he had a persistent, nagging feeling that tugged at the edges of his awareness, as though something was amiss.

"Dinner is at _otto de sera,_" Seth said to them both casually. "We get food catered in from town. After that will be a brief meeting where we will discuss the evening's agenda." He headed back towards the stairway leading back into the castle, Sela following him, and threw the last comment over his shoulder.

"Prepare yourselves. We Hunt tonight."

***

"We are going to stay here, then?" Robin asked softly, as she followed a slight step behind Amon, back to her suite. She was looking up at him earnestly, her hands folded in front of her.

She believed that they had made the right choice, despite her reluctance to leave Jana. SOLOMON would not be able to trace them back to Sovana now, and perhaps Seth and his Coven would offer them additional protection, in the face of any danger posed by Hunters....even if they were forced to Hunt down SOLOMON members themselves, they wouldn't be doing it alone. As Seth had said, _safety in numbers._

They reached the door of her suite, and Amon paused. She noticed the troubled light in his eyes.

"_Wakaranai,_" he offered softly, uncertainty in his voice. "I don't want to make a decision either way just yet. We shall wait and see..."

"After the Hunt?" Robin asked quietly, and he nodded his affirmation.

"I'm going to unpack my things," she said, moving into the room, leaving him at the door. "Seth said there were laundry facilities near the back entrance, and I need to launder some of my garments. Do you...." she looked back up at him, hesitantly. "Would you like me to wash anything of yours....for you?"

"_Iiya._" He shook his head hurriedly, turning away from the door.

"Amon," she said, moving back towards the door, but he was already walking away.

She stood in the center of the room, watching the open doorway.

Sela had been more than friendly enough to her, having shown her to her suite and chatted with her in Italian for a bit. She was twenty years old, and had worked for Seth and his Coven for two years; she was shocked to learn that Robin was only sixteen. Seth had also seemed benevolent and accommodating; Robin supposed the uneasiness she felt now was a result of being away from her grandmother, after having been in her presence for nearly a month. 

_Yes,_ she told herself._ That was probably it._

***

Sela came at eight to show her to dinner.

They headed down a long marble hallway, Sela chatting away casually. "A few of us are away at the moment, on assignment elsewhere in Italy," Sela explained. "But you will meet most of the other Coven members tonight, and again at the meeting before the Hunt. I'm sure they'll get to know you soon enough; running around during Hunts tends to familiarize people very quickly with each other." She smiled at the young Witch.

"So you are a Craft-User like myself," Robin gushed, and Sela nodded. "What is your power?" 

The brunette young woman smiled mysteriously. "You will see for yourself tonight, at the Hunt."

She opened a set of doors at the end of the hallway, and displayed the dining room. "_Eccoci!_"

An enormous dining table, laden with extravagant food and copious amounts of drink, were spread before the group members; one other woman and four other men, including Seth.

"Robin," Seth called, standing and pulling out a chair next to him. "_Avanti._ Join us."

She looked around the table. "Dov'è Amon?" she asked.

Seth shrugged. "He did not feel like eating, so we began without him." He smiled to reassure her. "Come on, sit down. We don't bite."

She hesitantly approached the table, and was introduced to the other members by Seth. There were three other men, Ethan, Leor, and Gideon, all of whom appeared to be of European descent; then another female, Hedya, a Nordic woman with long, pale-blonde hair. All looked to be in their early to mid-twenties in age range, similar to Sela and Seth; and all regarded her with a friendly yet cool air, heavy with curiosity.

There was a delicious seafood soup, as well as a couple different kinds of pastas; meats, mostly sausages, and something that Robin hadn't had before in central Italy, but had tried in another form while abroad---octopus. It was a cold, marinated dish, and tasted wonderful; very different from the _takoyaki_ she'd had in Japan. To drink there was a strong liquor called _grappa,_ which from what she understood was a brandy made from grape byproducts of winemaking; skins, stems, and seeds. She had tried a sip and found it to be flavorful, but much too strong for her own tastes.

Having finished her own meal and attempted to participate in polite conversation, Robin fashioned an extra plate of food and bowl of soup, covering it with one of the lids from the containers the food had arrived in, and excused herself from the table.

"Robin?" Seth asked, looking curiously at the food she held. "Where are you going with that?"

"It's for Amon," she said softly, not noticing the strange gleam in Seth's blue eyes. "I thought he might be hungry."

"_Molto gentile_ of you, to do that for him," the blond Witch commented, his lips forming a half-smile, "especially when he has not asked."

"_Mi scusi,_" she said politely to the group, and left carrying the plate, as well as a cup of the grappa.

"_A presto,_" Seth called after her as she left the dining room, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Seth, you shouldn't give the poor girl such a hard time," Sela reprimanded him lightly. "She is just looking out for her partner. That's what we women have to do, you know." She winked at him playfully.

"_Si,_" he said, bemused, still staring off at the door before helping himself to more of the grappa.

***

Robin carried the plate and cup upstairs carefully, balancing the food and drink as best as she could, mindful not to trip on her long skirts on the stairs. As she neared the end of the hallway, Sela having directed her to Amon's suite, she heard a familiar padding of steps behind her.

A soft furry body brushed against her ankles through the skirt, and a purring chirp could be heard. "Bast," Robin whispered, smiling softly. "Where have you been, _gatta cattiva?_ Amon has been worried about you." Despite her soft scolding, she was relieved to see the cat.

Apparently Amon had heard her talking outside of his door, presumably to herself; and as a result, he opened it before she'd had to try to figure out how to knock.

He was slightly startled to see her bearing the plate full of food, but he disguised it quickly and stepped aside from the door. "Robin. _Avanti._" He watched as she carried in the food and drink, and a flicker of amusement crossed his features at seeing Bast trotting dutifully behind her.

Robin set the food and drink down on a nearby table. "I thought you might be hungry, Amon," she explained softly, as he shut the door.

"Not really," he confessed, rubbing his temple as he approached the table; but nevertheless he found himself sifting through her gifts. "_Nan desu ka?_" he asked, lifting the lid on the soup.

"_Cacciucco alla livornese,_" she answered. "Fisherman's soup. It has lots of seafood in it; calamari, crawfish, shrimp, eel---" She stopped as he held up a hand. "Lots of seafood," she finished, quieter, and watched as he held the bowl to his mouth, tasting the broth. She then watched him go to his opened bag, resting on a sofa, and fish out a pair of chopsticks. He then returned to the table, seated himself in a chair and began slurping the soup noisily, directing the larger chunks of seafood and vegetables with the chopsticks.

Robin looked momentarily shocked by his actions, never having seen him eat so noisily while at Jana's; but she remembered Nagira and his soba noodles, and how in Japan it was customary---a culture shock that she had never quite gotten used to---to slurp, particularly noodles and soup, as a way to show appreciation of the food. The sight and sound of it caused a half-smile to form on her lips.

Amon saw the smile out of the corner of his eye, and paused in his eating long enough to cause her to avert her amused stare, before he resumed.

"The octopus is good, also," she suggested. "_Il polpo._" She sat in the opposite chair, watching as Bast curled affectionately around her legs. She stole a piece of leftover fish from the plate of food, holding it out to the cat, who nibbled on it daintily.

Amon had finished his soup. "What time is the Hunt to begin?" he asked, setting the bowl aside and wiping his mouth.

"Eleven," she replied, continuing to feed Bast. "I think there is going to be a meeting beforehand, to discuss the Hunt." She looked back up at Amon, who had begun trying the marinated octopus, tasting a few bites and finding it tender and flavorful, and digging in for more.

"I met some of the other Coven members," she offered for conversation, "three other men and a woman. They seemed very nice." 

Amon looked down at his plate of food. "You sound as though you trust them already," he said, in a lightly scolding tone. He motioned towards the cup she had brought him. "What is that?"

"I don't know if I trust them or not," she responded softly, not sure of his meaning. She vaguely wondered if it had been better to leave him alone before the Hunt. "Grappa....it's a drink. Like a brandy, I was told." She watched as he brought the cup to his nose and sniffed it, then took a small sip. The strength of the drink caused his eyebrows to lift.

_Too strong to drink right now. Better save that for later....when you're alone,_ he thought.

Robin rose from her chair, done with her feeding of Bast, and began to walk around the living area of his suite, studying the furniture and the architecture which was much like her own room. He had no idea whether she was aware of his eyes on her as she did so; but if she was, she didn't let on. Dark gray eyes followed her slow, graceful movements across the room, lingering on her form as she stopped to look at a chair, a vase, a painting on the wall.

She was drawn to the brick wood-burning fireplace on the opposite side of the room---which in his amused mind, was not at all surprising---and she examined it closely before turning back to face him, again with the half-smile he was accustomed to seeing. Together, the lethal combination of the halting smile and the magnetic green eyes caused a familiar reaction to slowly swell within him, coiling in his gut, making it slightly difficult for him to breathe.

"Would you like me to light it?" she asked innocently.

He was unable to tear his eyes away. "Not right now."

Both of them stared, fixated, for a long moment. The moment stretched out into another. He knew it was wrong to hold her gaze directly like this for so long, but he was also aware that she was not going to back down. It became a battle of wills, neither willing to succumb. He absently saw the smile dissipate under the gravity of the look they exchanged, and part of him realized that her refusal to submit to his dominating stare was what fed his own, what made him unable to see anything else but her at that moment. He felt a distinct impression of _deja vu_...the moment they passed each other in the hallway of Harry's bar, gazes fixed, unable to look away.

She took a step towards him, then two. He belatedly realized that his breath had begun to come faster.

A raucous pounding on the door to his suite jarred them both from their trance, and the door suddenly opened. It was Sela.

"Robin," she said breathlessly, as if she had just run up the stairs. "We've got to go; the Target is on the run."

***

Seth and Leor were already waiting in Seth's car, a slightly older Jaguar model, in the parking garage. The blond Witch blared the car horn impatiently as he saw the three running towards the other parked vehicles.

"_Andiamo!_" he hollered through the open window, his formerly boyish features livid with impatience. "He's running for Siena, if we get him now we can catch him before he gets to Roccastrada!" He pointed at Amon. "_You_ were not specified to go on this Hunt!"

"I'm going," Amon asserted, deactivating the alarm on the BMW and unlocking it, Sela and Robin close behind him. "I can snipe, if you have the weapons."

Seth smirked in spite of himself. "It just so happens we have more than one; Leor is a sniper also. We'll see how you do against his enhanced vision." He barked at Sela, "Keep in phone contact. We'll meet you there!" The Jaguar's tires pealed out as the car took off.

Amon slid into the driver's seat, starting the motor even as the women were still entering the car. He saw a momentary struggle in their eyes for the front seat.

"Robin sits up front," he said, his voice like cold steel, and Sela concealed a smile as she opened the rear passenger door.

Robin buckled herself into the front seat, the memory of car chases in Amon's Audi giving her slight panic. 

"Hold on," he said gruffly, throwing the car into reverse, then into forward gear as the car lurched forward, speeding out of the garage at breakneck speed.

Sela directed him down the narrow, winding road, which they took at what Robin guessed to be 50mph faster than was probably recommended. The car nearly fishtailed twice, the tires unable to get adequate purchase on the dirt road.

"You're going to get us killed!" Sela cried into his ear from the backseat. "Wait until we're on pavement to floor it!"

Soon enough they were out of Grosseto, and the road headed towards Roccastrada was paved. Amon flattened the gas pedal, the car's speed pushing past 120, 130mph. For several miles he was able to keep the Jaguar within sight on the road ahead.

Sela was on the phone with Seth, talking in rapid bursts of Italian, and finally she tapped Amon's arm impatiently. "Get off---get off here!" They quickly pulled off the main highway, the roads still paved, and followed Sela's directions, finally entering a small township.

"To the right, the right," Sela chanted, pointing at a warehouse structure, and Amon and Robin saw the empty Jaguar parked near it. Amon pulled up next to the Jaguar and stopped the car, getting out cautiously, gun drawn. 

Sela was still on her phone, but her voice had lowered in the night's stillness. "Leor has taken position at the outer left door, he has the sniping rifles," she told Amon, and he and Robin exchanged a quick glance before he nodded and headed off in Leor's direction. "Robin, come with me," Sela said lowly, shutting off her cellular, and headed towards the warehouse entrance.

They entered cautiously, senses alert, and made their way into the darkened warehouse. It took several seconds for their visions to adjust, and they crawled along the darkened boxes and supply shelves silently, towards the sounds of a scuffle. Finally they rounded a corner to see Seth, directly confronting the SOLOMON agent out in the open.

The agent appeared to be using a Water Craft, and he was directing bursts of jet-streamed water at Seth, who calmly looked over in Sela's direction.

To Robin's surprise, rock pushed up from underneath the warehouse cement floor, effectively protecting Seth from the water blasts, which sprayed against the rock pillars harmlessly. She looked over at Sela standing next to her, deep in concentration.

_She's shielding him._

Seth, from the safety of the shield, inclined his head towards the SOLOMON Hunter, and a gust of cold air swept forth towards the agent. The Hunter's Water Craft blocked the attack.

Seth turned back to Robin and Sela's hiding place behind the shelves, and Sela gasped. "He can't use his lightning in here---he has to be outside. Robin, you have to help him!"

Without further thought, Robin stepped out from behind the shelves, her glasses perched atop her nose, and blocked the instant attack from the SOLOMON agent against her with her fire.

Now she could see him clearly before her, and she was surprised to see that he was shaking and trembling with fear. 

"_Perche?_" his wailing voice came to her ears, and she faltered momentarily. "_Perche? Why do you do this to me?_"

Seth had backed off, to protect himself against further attacks, and he was watching now with Sela, as Robin advanced on the Hunter with slow, even steps.

"You harm innocent Witches," she answered. "Is that not reason enough for us to do this?"

"_No,_" the Hunter whispered, his face twisted in an agonizing grimace. "_No!_" 

Robin's flame leapt out at him, not burning him but driving him outside, to where she knew Leor and Amon waited.

"You have done things that can't be forgiven," she whispered softly, the flame behind her eyes lighting again to push him further, and he turned to run out the back entrance, forcing his way through with the fierce jets of his Water Craft, his voice wailing into the darkness.

Robin flinched as she heard three sharp shots ring out from behind the warehouse...._crack.....crack....crack._ The sounds were all too familiar, reminding her distinctly of the shots that had been fired on _her,_ in an old abandoned warehouse, many miles and many months ago. She shivered at the memory.

Seth and Sela ran on ahead of her, out the back entrance, where they found the Hunter prone, lying in a pool of his own blood. Amon and Leor had leapt down from their positions flanking the warehouse from above, Leor shooting daggers with his glare at Amon.

"Who made the shot?" Seth asked, and Leor grudgingly looked over at Amon. "You did, Amon?" Seth asked, to which the dark hunter nodded succintly.

Robin walked out of the warehouse to join the group, and looked down at the fallen man before her. It was hardly her first SOLOMON kill....Sastre had been but one of a few of the powerful Hunters she had destroyed in Japan....but for some strange reason, she felt as though it were.

"_Eccellente,_" Seth remarked, giving Amon a nod of approval. "I underestimated you. _Mi perdoni._"

After collecting evidence---the spent sniper shells---the group started to move back to their cars, Amon stopping when he realized Robin had hung back, still staring at the Hunter's lifeless body. 

"Robin," he urged quietly; but instead of at him, she looked up at the moon, swollen and lit in the sky.

She wasn't entirely sure....but she thought that she could hear moaning screams, whisper-thin, carried on the air as she stood in the moonlight, the silvery light falling on the pool of blood near her feet.

.

* * *

Next chapter:

Unseen truth....Rising sun....The Divine Feminine. The ancient magick employed to Hunt rekindles the Flame. Chapter 12.

************************

Lotsa Italian this time: ^^;

sua consorte: your consort  
mi perdoni: forgive me  
la gatta: the cat  
buon viaggio: have a good trip  
Mare Mediterraneo: Mediterranean Sea  
Palazzo: palace  
doushita: [Japanese] what's wrong?  
nandemonai: [Japanese] nothing  
Il convento: the convent  
Mi amici: my friends  
camera singola per ciasuna, per favore: single room for each, please  
mi chiamo: my name is  
signore: sir  
Che cos'è questo: what is this?  
Una gatta bella: a lovely cat  
scusi: I'm sorry  
avanti: come  
gradisce un sigaro: would you like a cigar?  
Castello di Vicarello: Castle of the Vicar (Priest)  
signorina: miss, young woman  
che romantico: how romantic  
bella: lovely, beautiful   
tesoro: treasure, darling  
otto de sera: eight P.M.  
wakaranai: [Japanese] I don't know yet  
iiya: [Japanese] no  
eccoci: here we are  
Dov'è: where is  
takoyaki: fried octopus dumpling  
molto gentile: very kind  
mi scusi: excuse me  
a presto: see you soon  
gatta cattiva: naughty cat  
nan desu ka: [Japanese] what is it?  
andiamo: let's go  
perche: why  
eccellente: excellent

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More Author's Notes!

Wow. I can't believe this fic has hit so many reviews. We're coming up on 400! @_@ I'm totally amazed. But I'm very thankful for the input, comments, and praise. It makes my day to read some of these notes! So to start off, THANK YOU, READERS. ^^ *warm fuzzies*

Okay. I told myself I was going to respond to reviews on an individual basis, but seeing as I've only managed to do it with a couple of people, I would like to take this opportunity to do more of that here---particularly after some great---and interesting----comments I've received. ^^ So if you're bored with review responses, please disregard this part. But if you've reviewed with a question or suggestion, I might have an answer for you down here. ^^

Just a warning: this is a very *long* section. 

**koala4u: i just HAVE to ask this...are you italian, or taking italian, and are the ceremonies included from your own research or fictitious?**  
I am not Italian (American of Austrian descent), nor have I taken Italian. I have, however, taken Latin for four years (much like Demeter, I believe), and this helps sometimes with the language....particularly conjugation of verbs, as Italian is one of the most similar romance languages to Latin. I use a variety of sites to help me with my translations, but occasionally I still make mistakes; fortunately I have some well-equipped Italian language resources in the form of some of my reviewers (aka, Waking Dreamer and Laura Dunckel), who have helped me with some of the intricacies of it.   
The ceremonies I describe (such as Beltaine/Tana's Day) are real, from my own research into Wicca. I added some characteristics to the Beltaine description that may or may not be true, but they could be inferred as true. But yes, it's all from research. Many Wiccan sites have detailed descriptions of celebrations and holidays sacred to Pagans. I only hope I've done them justice. ^^

**megu-sama: I L¢3/4VE YOUR STORY SO MUCH!! I'M GONNA POST IT ON MY WITCH HUNTER ROBIN SITE!! DON'T WORRY, I'M NOT STEALING IT! IT WILL LINK TO YOUR NAME!**  
I'm very flattered that you enjoy it so much! However, I would like to ask you and other readers to please ask my permission before uploading my story onto your site. But in most cases I think I will be honored. ^^;

**Rockie-chan: Are Robin and Amon ever going to see the members of the STN-J again?**  
In this fic, no. But again, that's only in this fic. If I write another one following the events of The Burning Time, their location may change. (possibly)

**FireHunter: (but whats whith the "custard" incident? its slightly weird, but still cute!)**  
I'm giggling at the thought of this scene from chapter 7 being known here on out as "the custard incident". ^^ It's hard to describe or defend this scene....I just chalk it all up to three things: Beltaine, wine, and Amon realizing a good opportunity when he sees it. As a great author (cough*meris ann*cough) said once: Amon doesn't consider himself a "very good or righteous man", just one that would seize such an opportune moment and run with it. ^^;

**hush the silent: did robin kill that hunter-type-person-thing? (chapter 8) **  
Yes. Yes, she did. ^^;

**moonjump05: Did you know Amon is a Hebrew name meaning faithful and trustworthy?**  
Yes. Yes, I did. ^^ It plays into the story in many different ways. Hebrew names are going to be rampant in future chapters, and the reason for them will be discussed later on. ^^

**Fei4: Ah i knew it, wans't the fstival of Beltaine shown in the movie The Mists of Avalon too?**  
A couple people have now mentioned that movie to me, and I'm now very curious about it. Yes, I believe it was mentioned in Mists of Avalon. The movie, I'm told, is about King Arthur and a character named Morgana, who is a Witch. I'm planning on seeing it when I get a chance; it definitely sounds interesting. ^^

**whackoramaco87: p.s. where do you get all your information about the witches, and etc...?**  
A lot of different sites. I couldn't possibly name them all here. But a very good one, again with information provided by Raven Grimassi, who is a leading authority on Stregheria (Italian Witchcraft), is www.stregheria.com .

**Cassie E: Question: What do you mean on visibility of one's craft?? **  
I received a lot of questions on this particular aspect of the story, so I'll answer all of them here. In episode 19, "Missing", Robin befriends a lonely couple who have lost their daughter (presumably to Factory) after emergence of her powers. Before they are to sit down to eat, the wife spills the pan with their dinner, and it is saved from crashing to the floor by her husband's suddenly-awakened powers. After Robin leaves the house, we see the Factory van driving by to collect the couple.  
How did they know that this man's power had awakened? Yes they were Seeds, and they were being watched by SOLOMON---but how would SOLOMON know the emergence of such a small, almost harmless power, concealed within the walls of the couple's own house? The answer is in my description in chapter 9 of the Grigori, the "Watchers", a very important part of the Wiccan belief system relating to how they utilize magick. SOLOMON employs magickal works to keep abreast of Witches' powers. There is no other way to explain it. This may be what Zaizen was first referring to in episode 1, where he mentioned that SOLOMON outside of Japan "does things a bit differently".

**KagomeKitty13: Don't listen to those arrogant jerks who say your story stinks because they're just full of it and have no idea what they're missing.**  
(snickers) What? ^^; If someone is saying such things, this is the first I've heard of it. *shrugs* But...we're all entitled to our own opinions. I don't write to appease everybody...something I will elaborate on a few more questions down.

**litebrite: Please tell me you don't only write fan fiction.**  
A very flattering comment, by someone who has a column here at ff.net, no less. ^^; _I'm not worthy!_  
But yes, I only write fanfiction for now. I don't have time to write anything else. Like a black hole, this fanfic kind of absorbs any other creative impulses I might have. But who knows, when it's done? Maybe I'll try some original fiction. Thank you. ^^  
**litebrite: only picky criticism of this chapter..the view point slips for about a paragraph. You have until this point kept it mostly to robin and amon (maybe jana?) as the only people in whose heads we see.. Be careful of that. I know it's difficult to do with multiple characters.**  
Hm. I see what you mean; however, I never said I was going to only focus on Robin and Amon's viewpoints, even though they are the main characters. I felt that for the storyline it was important to get a glimpse, even if it's just now and then, of how some of the supporting characters are thinking. After all, many of them are very hidden/secretive characters who don't necessarily share all their knowledge with Robin and Amon...and I felt the need to inform the reader in subtle ways that these characters know more than they let on. So if I broke any particular viewpoint rules, sorry about that. But I don't think I'm going to change what I wrote.

**Saiyan no Koujo: Maybe, if you gather enough of your dedicated readers, you can petition to have The Burning Time be considered as a continuance for the upcoming live-action for Sci-Fi, pending they stick to the plot.**  
*laughs!* As much as I would love that, I'm sure they wouldn't even waste their time with a story like mine. I'm sure they already have teams of great script-writers. But that does make me wish I were doing that---writing scripts for anime/live versions of anime---type of work. Hm. Maybe a change of career is in order. ^.~

**RosieB: you know that Seth is the Egyptian god of evil right? **  
Yes. Yes, I do. ^^ But come on. He's such a _nice_ man, isn't he? *smirk*

**kouhai: The one part that confuses me is the references to English. Were it not for those, I'd have just assumed that all English dialogue was just a translation from Italian or Japanese. Why would any of the characters be speaking English? **  
When I first started this story a few months ago, I ran into an issue I thought would be difficult to tackle without inserting the notion that Amon and Robin (and even Jana and other townspeople) spoke English. The issue is thus: Amon is Japanese. Jana is Italian. Robin serves as the mediator between the two, acting to bridge the language barriers....but let's face it; Amon isn't fluent in Italian, nor is Jana in Japanese. Either one of them having those abilities would just be too hard to believe. And for the purposes of the story, I needed Amon to converse/bond with Jana in certain ways, and didn't want the focus of their conversations to be "deciphering each other's languages". So I decided they (in addition to Robin) would also both speak English, to facilitate their dialogue with each other. It's not totally unreal that either one of them would speak English, given that English is a really widely spoken language in the world now---even in Japan and parts of rural Italy. I heard that something like 90% of people in Singapore speak English---is that just crazy, or what? So I don't feel like I'm stretching too much there. And for scientists working in an international conglomerate-type organization, it makes sense that they'd speak it too.  
Also some of the songs/Witchcraft work I incorporated into the story were undeniably in English, so again I needed to have them be able to understand those things. There are parts of the story where Jana and Robin converse in private; or Robin and Amon; and consequently you can probably assume they're speaking to each other in their native languages, and I'm simply translating to English---but I felt the ability to speak/understand English was necessary in the beginning for all three of them to communicate.

**synaesthesia: Robin isn't so easily swayed, is she? (regarding Seth)**  
No comment. ^^ But keep in mind, living in a convent for years can make one quite naive to human nature, outside of the Church's influence.

**MimiPenguin: Also, I'm not sure if the ram's horns are supposed to be like the stags antlers, or if the ram implies something else. If it is the former, then I think that the connection might be a bit sketchy. **  
It might seem so at this point in time. But just wait. ^^

**fosh: I agree with the fact that Amon is a walking contradiction... but then again, aren't most tall, dark, handsome men?**  
Yes. Yes, they are. Dammit. (snickers)

**Mikey: That sounds nothing like him...but then it does. He'd never SAY something like that, but from what I see, that's EXACTLY how he would think. (regarding Amon's "map" comment)**  
Haha. I'm glad you pointed that out. Amon may seem OOC in some parts of the story, but you just reminded us that we, the readers, have the ability to read his thoughts. Who knows what he's thinking in the series? We're never privileged enough to know what's going on in that little head of his, except one episode where we find out what happened to his mother. And to me, I thought it was appropriate; he's a very judgmental guy, even of his own feelings/ emotions.  
**Mikey: And were you making some sort of connection there with Amon and Bast? I have a little figurine of Bast, but it calls her Bastet.**  
Ahaha. You are one of my most perceptive reviewers...and there are quite a few of them. There is a connection...but once again, like the ram thing, it probably won't be revealed until the end. But there is a hint in an earlier chapter, I won't say where. ^^ Bastet is just another name for Bast, although from what I understand of the Egyptian names, adding the "-et" after her name is kind of redundant; the ending "-t" usually implies a female name, and "-et" is added sometimes to female names to make them more...feminine, I suppose.

**Mitsuko Hime**:   
180 pages in 12-point font?!? ....oh my god. I never even knew it was that long. ^^; That's like, novel-length! Yikes. 

**LSR-7: Have you been to Italia?**  
No. God, I only wish. But after researching the northern Italian area, I am making sure that my next vacation is somewhere in Tuscany. ^.~  
**LSR-7: I think you should double check `nomide`. I`ve never heard the word before and couldn`t find it in my Japanese dictionary. A word for `that`s enough` is `Juubun`.**  
Thanks for your suggestion. But I chose "nomide" for its meaning = _ "more than enough"_, as opposed to "juubun", which means "adequate" or "plenty"---that word just didn't have the right emphasis I needed for Amon's angry side. ^^; I am, though, taking your suggestions about "daijoubu" and also the "gomenasai"...I didn't realize that 'gomen' is not really spoken by tough-guy males. Thank you for your excellent help!  
**LSR-7: I thought you`re officially an adult when you turn twenty in Japan. You can drive at 18 and vote at 20.**  
That may be true; I haven't checked on that. But I meant adult in a different sense of the word. *smirk* As someone else pointed out, the legal age of consent is 16 in Japan; in Italy it's only 14. (wow. Definitely didn't see that coming. o.O)

**Sarah (sarahchan14@att.net): This is in regard to what you said in putting 'something' in later chapters. I'm sorry but I must object if it's what I think it is. Now, I'm a Christian and I believe strongly in purity. But that's just me. And I doubt Robin, the way her character traits show, would ever give her virginity up before marriage. All I'm saying is if you put that scene in there, you'll be losing a reader! But after all, it is just one person. Sorry 4 the inconvenience^_^!**  
This ties in nicely to the last question above. It's great, Sarah, that you're a Christian, but....well....I'm not.  
As I said in an earlier response, I don't write to appease everybody. I write for myself and my own tastes. I realize some people are offended by pre-marital sex, for various reasons, and that's fine for them; if it offends you so much, then please, don't read it.  
However, I am an adult---far older than most of you on this board, I'm quite certain---and I don't feel the need, given that I rate my story appropriately, to cut out portions of the story that are for adult readers. After all, Witch Hunter Robin itself should really not be viewed by children under 14, as stated in Adult Swim. The subject of Witches alone is of adult matter, being linked to the occult, as well as with the "Devil"; it's a bit of a taboo subject for really devout Christians, no? So if you're offended by any descriptions of sexual situations for purely Christian reasons, I suggest you clear out now. I am not against the Christian faith in any way, shape or form; but some of the suggestions I plan on making in later chapters may be a bit offensive to those who take the religion very seriously. Just a warning.   
As to Robin's character and the status of her virginity before marriage...that's entirely up to speculation, don't you agree? Yes, she was raised in a Catholic monastery; yes, she believes in God; yes, she is young and pure. But was it *ever* said at any point in the series, that she meant to become a dedicated "bride of Christ"? Nope. Neither do her character traits imply that she would never have sex until marriage. Her character traits imply that she is a mature, honest, caring young woman---not frigid, not without longing, and _certainly_ not prudish. Hello, she sleeps naked. Is that approved by the Catholic Church? I'm curious. ^^  
Don't worry, though---it's really no inconvenience. ^^;

Lastly, I would just like to mention some of my more regular and descriptive reviewers; namely, **Demeter, Sarah Kerrigan, Jen23, Keistje, Cassie, Moonjump05, RosieB, Tsukinoko, Phoebe Nixon, Ayeka Penor, Rockerbaby, kenjis-slayer**...I am sure there are others, but I wanted to thank all of you listed for your consistent reviewing support, as well as your wonderfully descriptive and insightful comments. The reviews I get from all of you _always_ let me know how my work is received and perceived. I thank you muchly. ^^

And **Bumblebee Queen**, if you're still reading this....your review totally cracked me up. Not only was it like the longest review I think I've ever seen on ff.net, it was the most humorous. I totally understand your need to compare my fic to steak, or your concentration rivaling a band of incontinent monkeys. ^^ *snicker* Thanks for your comments; but as to what's "gotten into me", unfortunately I have no real good answer for that. Um...a very active imagination? And some multivitamins? ^^;  
As well as **Nyxie**, who also blessed me with a lengthy, detailed commentary. I love those, if you couldn't tell. ^^ Thank you. And while I'm glad I converted you from Inuyasha fics, I'm trying to familiarize myself with that anime at the same time. There's just so many episodes, though! ^^; Be sure and read some of the other good WHR fics on this site, as well as Vitani's fic...it's very good, and I'm hoping she'll take my advice to keep updating it. ^^   
I'll try to update more frequently....but I can't guarantee anything. Please hold off on the cutlery in the meantime! ^^;

One final note: thanks, to Rukis_croax, for your comment. ^^ *is tickled* But it's okay; for the most part, everyone's been extremely helpful. Even in other cases, I can handle criticism perfectly well, even though I sweat bullets over this story. As Nietzche says, what does not kill you, makes you stronger. ^^

*******************

And, that's a wrap. Gomenasai if I've been too honest or forthcoming in some of these answers to you guys. I just thought everyone should know where I stand on things. ^^;


	13. Chapter 12: Goddess

A/N: I _really_ don't like this once-a-month update thing that I've been doing lately...but real life has interfered most heinously in my writing schedule (moving and starting a new job; not to mention a Blonde Moment where I forgot my Windows 2000 password ;). But never fear: Chapter 13 is already half-written, and should be available very soon. 

I've just recently become aware of the benefits of laptops, having been given a temporary one from work. I really need to get one of these things, not just because I have limited computer time now; it just makes so much more sense as a writer to have a portable method of being able to jot your thoughts down. I'm saving the cash to buy myself one soon. I can just see myself now at Starbucks or B&N, typing away, simultaneously increasing my caffeine intake. Wouldn't Robin be proud! 

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. I had thought it was obvious that I didn't, being that this is , but it's apparent I needed to say this after all. However, the fictional characters of Jana Luciano, Bast, Seth, Sela, and the other Coven members, as well as the plot, are all my own original ideas. Please don't steal them. Thank you. Enjoy! 

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 12: Goddess**

.

* * *

Amon matched his steps to Seth's quick exit from the parking garage.

"Seth." 

His stern baritone rang out in the dim lot, empty now save for themselves and the sleek, stylish cars parked there. Seth halted in his steps, turning his face slightly at the sound of his name. 

Amon stopped a short distance off from where the blond man stood, clenching his gloved fists at his side. 

Seth turned all the way around to face him. "_Si?_" he asked, his voice clipped with impatience. 

"What happened back there?" Amon demanded icily. "Why were we not briefed about the Hunt beforehand?" 

Seth huffed and spread his arms wide. "You saw what happened---he ran! We had to chase him while we could still track him; time was of the essence. We didn't _have time_ for any blasted meetings." He frowned now at the dark hunter. "You, of all people, should understand that, having been a Hunter for years. Our prey was in danger of escaping." 

"It is not wise to go into a Hunt without knowing the information behind the Target," Amon warned. "It endangers not only the mission itself, but the team members performing it....especially if the Target had an unknown Craft." 

"I'd hardly call _his_ Craft anything remotely threatening," Seth sneered, before calming his features again. "At any rate, Amon, the danger is passed. We got our man." He smiled somewhat sardonically. "You made the shot yourself. You should be proud of your skills; I think Leor was shown up." Seth turned again as if to make his way out of the garage. 

"I will be briefed prior to our next Hunt," Amon said, the chill in his voice unrelenting. "Or neither Robin nor I will attend." 

This caused Seth to stop and turn around again, his good humor gone. "I do not take kindly to anyone else's orders, _Amon,_" he warned sullenly. He lifted his brows. "And you don't control her." 

Before Amon could respond, his fury rising, Seth interjected again, bowing his head in a brief graceful gesture. "I think you're forgetting something, _miei amico_...and that is, our goals are the same; yours, mine, and everyone's here." He raised his head to meet Amon's eyes directly, ice blue to slate gray. "We disapprove of SOLOMON's methods, and we are here to Hunt them. And in order to do that, and be efficient, we need to obey orders---" he jerked his thumb in his own direction to emphasize, "---_my_ orders." He paused afterwards to let the finality of his words sink in, before spreading his hands in supplication. "Do you not agree? It is us against them, _miei amico_...I suggest you choose sides now." His words were met with Amon's dark silence. 

Seth turned again towards the entrance into the castle, throwing his next words over his shoulder. "We will meet beforehand for the next Hunt. And Robin will participate...as will you and I. There will be no further discussion of it." He stalked off purposefully, leaving Amon behind in the dimly lit garage. 

The dark hunter bowed his head in momentary thought. _It is us against them. I suggest you choose sides now. _

Choose sides. It sounded very similar to what Jana had been telling him over and over again in Sovana. 

SOLOMON had attempted to take that choice from him when they had tried to make him into what they had planned, and desired...a Hunter, a killer, someone so loyal to the organization that they wouldn't be able to tell right from wrong. They had tainted his genetic code to make him into their servant---at the same time taking away the purity of his humanity. It wasn't his parents that had bequeathed him the genes he had loathed and feared for so long...it was science, and SOLOMON, who were responsible. He could no longer blame his father for choosing a Witch for his wife, or vice-versa. His heritable background had been irrelevant. 

He clenched his gloved fists at his sides again in stymied fury. He was a genetic creation, a laboratory experiment....someone without a natural past, someone whose future was meant to be manipulated. 

He now partially understood how Robin felt. 

He entered his upstairs suite, his footfalls heavy with weariness and his thoughts in turmoil. Through the open window in his suite a cool night breeze from the coast wafted in, smelling of forest and sea salt. He went to the window briefly and looked out at the coastline, seeing the dark ocean tide rising and swelling...much like his own tormented emotions. 

Robin was most likely in her own suite downstairs, having entered the castle before he'd confronted Seth in the parking garage. He imagined she was, at that moment, going about preparing her nightly bath; running the water---scalding hot, as he'd known from having seen the steam pouring out from beneath the closed bathroom door often enough---and filling the tub, adding bath oils, lighting candles.... 

Having realized too late where this train of thought was leading him, he quickly dismissed the vision from his mind. The thought alone of her undressing by candlelight in the stone and marble bathroom and stepping slowly into the heated water, however fleeting, had filled him with adequate guilt; to say nothing of the unsettling awareness that his imagination probably hadn't even done the scene justice. 

He went immediately across the room to his open travel bag, still on the sofa, and fished out his slim laptop and power cord. He placed it on a nearby desk, plugging the machine into the wall and booting it up. A note to Nagira informing him of their new situation would take his mind off other things that were distracting him. He waited for it to power up, sitting down to type. 

**Nii-san,  
An update to let you know what's happened to us in the last 96 hours.  
We were attacked in a neighboring town....went into hiding for two days to allow the situation to cool off. But in lieu of drastic change in location, we opted to instead join a local group whose background I'm still a bit unsure of. I need you to do some reconnaissance for me.  
Look for any information you can find regarding these facts: a coven in Italy sponsored by combined US/UK financial backing; the names _Seth, Sela, Leor, Hedya, and Gideon_ connected with such a group; and I will provide you as soon as I can with the name of a deceased member of that organization you and I know so well. I need any information you can come up with as soon as possible.  
Seth is particularly troubling. I'm not sure what it is, but he seems somehow...familiar to me. I'm at a loss to explain it.  
I will contact you again soon with another name. As always, maintain your own safety while acquiring this information.  
Otouto.**

. 

He sat back in the chair after sending the hurried note, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his eyes stared off into the laptop screen. He felt the trace of whiskers along his jawline and realized that he would need a shave soon. 

He was aware that he hadn't mentioned the research involving his mother to Nagira for him to look into, knowing fully well why he hadn't. Despite the limited amount of time Nagira had been exposed to Matoko when they were younger, Amon knew his brother's memories of her were fond ones. Nagira had even gone so far as to defend the eruption of her powers, even though he himself had not been present that fateful day when they had awakened so destructively. How he could be so certain that she hadn't been corrupted was beyond Amon; but he knew his half-brother's obstinacy, and was aware of the futility of arguing the point with him. 

An unbidden image came to him of his mother. It was a momentary glimpse, but he could clearly make out the details of her hair, her hands, and her kind brown eyes as she looked at him lovingly. He could still, after so many years, hear her gentle whisper to him. 

_Shisoku...waga hitorimusuko. Taisetsu yo._

He frowned. 

Restlessly, he rose from his chair again and went back to his bag on the sofa, fishing through it until he came upon the item that he had been searching for....Vincenzo's file of Mario Benedetto's work. 

He went back to the desk, sat and opened up a small notepad in the envelope file, and began to read. 

_...from SOLOMON's deciphered parts of the Nag Hammadi and Dead Sea Scrolls, as well as other ancient Judaic and Kabbalistic writings, we were initially under the impression that the Arcanum of the Craft was to be located in 'the Land of the Rising Sun', and subsequently from this description we assumed the references meant Anatolia (the Asiatic part of Turkey), whose name originates from those words. However, upon studying the documents further, we realized the reference was not to the land that is now known as Turkey, but to the new 'Land of the Rising Sun'....i.e. _Japan.... 

_...The prophecy of Daniel from the Dead Sea Scrolls suggests that a man will rise up and proclaim himself 'Jupiter Olympus', claiming that he is _the supreme God,_ when in actuality he is the 'son of Perdition'. This prophecy also contains a reference to the 'Rising Sun' motif...There will be a 'renewed Covenant', as well as a confrontation between the 'Children of Light', who have been endowed with the Spirit of God, and the 'Children of Darkness', also known as the 'Children of Belial', or 'Ba'al' as it is written.... _

...Yahweh, the Judean God (translated in the Authorized Version of the Christian Bible as 'Jehovah'), was originally a sky god. He was associated with mountains and was called by the enemies of Israel a 'god of the hills'. His manifestation was often as fire, as it were on Mount Sinai...other biblical verses in metaphorical language speak of Israel being led in safety through the Sinai wilderness by their God, who is likened to a 'powerful horned ox'... 

...quite understandably, we focused on the Latin Vulgate's 'erroneous' translation of the word qaran_ in Exodus 34:29 and 35: 'And when Moses came down from the Mount Sinai, he held the two tablets of the testimony, and he knew not that his face was _horned_ from the conversation of the Lord.' 'And they saw that the face of Moses when he came out was _horned,_ but he covered his face again, if at any time he spoke to them.'... ....Clues provided to us in writings led us to begin detailed excavations in Egypt, led by our SOLOMON-funded research teams, specifically in what was once the ancient city of Thebes. Extraction of DNA from mummified sources was performed....we identified and recovered---by hand-held high-throughput PCR---3,000 year-old DNA from the source, or _'pi'_....DNA hybridization and nucleotide sequencing of the fragments revealed that there were little to no modifications post-mortem, and that the fragments were subsequently cloned into a plasmid vector, ready for further vector construction..._

Once again, Amon realized that skipping around, as he did in the scientific journals placed in his care, did little to actually elucidate the meanings of the entries written in them. He sat back and rubbed his eyes. _At least **this** will put you to sleep,_ he mused. 

It would take days, maybe weeks, of reading thoroughly to understand what Benedetto was trying to do experimentally, he thought; not to mention to figure out what Vincenzo had been hinting at when he had mentioned the 'help' that Benedetto---and later, Toudou---had meant to provide to Witches. _Let us say...that both of them were determined not to let SOLOMON have the final say in everything._ He wondered what it had to do with the experiments performed on Matoko. 

Against his will, his thoughts fled again to her; jumbled images from his childhood memories that he'd tried unsuccessfully to suppress. 

_...the man's hand wrapping securely around his thin forearm, a grip so tight it was like a vise... _

"Yamenasai!" His mother's voice, a shrieking plea, ringing in his ears...turning his head to look up at the man grabbing his arm--- 

---and finding a seven-year-old voice to scream in horror, as the man's face melted_ before his very eyes, flesh falling sickeningly from the bone..._

He tensed at the memory as he rubbed his chin. The dark gray eyes were far away in recollection. 

If it had been up to SOLOMON, Amon realized, he would have awakened a long time ago---tapped into the power that he now knew for certain that lived inside him. Vincenzo had even admitted it..._attempts were made to induce his awakening, all the way up until the child was six or seven years old....but to no avail._ He had barely felt the evidence of his awakening Craft in Factory, but he suspected nevertheless that it was responsible for both the super-human jump he'd performed that had saved Robin's life, as well as having protected him from Zaizen's Orbo. 

But something had held him in check; something had prevented his Craft---whatever it was meant to be---from fully awakening and spinning completely out of control, as his mother's had done. What was it? 

His line of sight fell upon Jana's basket of food, which had been left in his room upon their arrival the previous day. At the top of the pile of fruit lay a golden ripe fig, similar to the one Robin had given him to taste the first day they had set foot in Sovana. He reached for it absently, picking it up and turning it over in his hand, feeling its soft yet grainy texture. 

_Just because it hasn't fully manifested itself yet doesn't mean it's not inevitable,_ he reminded himself. _She awoke for her husband, the person who haunted her waking thoughts and dreams...and if you're not careful, the same will happen to you._ Again he flashed back to the end of that horrifying moment, and the SOLOMON agent's words as they dragged him away from the spectacle of Matoko's bullet-riddled body. 

_See? See, what your mother has become? That will happen to **you**....unless you come with us, right now...._

He stood and went to the small stone-hedged fireplace at the other end of his room, opening the vent and arranging the wood on the iron beams. It took only moments to light the flame that sprang to life, and he crouched near enough to the flames to feel the searing heat before stepping back and going to his bed, stripping himself of his overcoat, shirt and boots along the way. He positioned himself on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands and watching the fire. 

_You may not trust Seth, but he is the only means you have right now to vindicate your own existence,_ he told himself, _by going after the organization that created you...and absolving yourself of the guilt she left you with._

He became drowsy as he watched the flames. Hazily he recalled the last fire he'd sat before...and the comfort of a soft, chestnut-haired head on his shoulder, still slightly damp from her bath and smelling of lilac and rain from her shampoo. He felt again the sudden awareness that had come over him when he'd realized that the warmth coursing through him was not as much from the fire he had watched, but more from the intoxicating body heat of the girl who'd fallen asleep against his arm. 

In his hand he still held the golden fig, warmed by the touch of his skin; and he bit into it, the sensuous feeling flooding through his veins at the taste of it. It was warm, fragrant, and sweet---not unlike the taste of her mouth, he suddenly realized---and the sensation radiated pleasantly throughout his whole body. 

It was the taste of the fruit, and the remembrance of the warmth he'd previously experienced by fireside that enabled him to finally close his eyes, blanking his overactive mind of unwanted memories and allowing him to drift off to sleep. 

The next morning, Robin woke late, unable to rouse herself early from the luxurious sleep she'd had in her new bed. Her bedroom window had been open all night and she had awakened to the ocean air and the gentle sound of waves from the distant shore. She sat up in bed, holding the white sheet to her chest, her hair tousled by the incoming breeze; her sleepy countenance turned towards the open window which faced the greenery outside. 

The previous night, having become exhausted from the Hunt, she had prepared a quick bath upon entering her room; and before the drowsiness of the hot tub had completely consumed her, she had crawled into bed and almost immediately fallen into a deep sleep. She had slept so deeply that she had nearly forgotten the unsettling feeling that had possessed her after the Hunt of the doomed SOLOMON agent. 

Robin reflected briefly on the rushed events that had occurred the night before. It had happened so quickly, so abruptly---Seth and Sela hadn't hesitated in their own attacks on the Hunter, the frightened, trembling man whom Robin had chased out of the warehouse only to meet his gruesome end courtesy of Amon's sniper rifle. He was a SOLOMON Hunter, had killed Witches under the organization's orders....so why had she felt such a pervading sense of dread at having contributed to his death? 

She rose from her bed and dressed, lost in silent thought as she fashioned her hair into its usual twists in the large marble and stone bathroom. 

Walking down the long hallway, her dark skirts trailing softly behind her on the marble tile, she followed the sounds and smells of conversation and breakfast to a corridor that led to the back of the building. It ended in a well-lit patio, open to face the expanse of the greenery behind the castle. The tables and furniture were modern and done in white, giving it a light, airy feel; and the other Coven members seated around the patio table looked up with interest at her arrival. 

"_Buon giorno,_ Robin," Seth trilled, his smooth and melodic voice welcoming her as he stood from his chair and approached her to take her hand. "_Una bella dormita?_" 

"_Si, grazie,_" Robin replied softly, startled by his hand covering hers, but allowing it. "The bed was very comfortable." A few of the other Coven members---mostly male---snickered at her response, and she glanced at them curiously, uncomprehending. 

"_Certo,_" Seth responded, grinning. "We would provide nothing less for you, _tesoro._" He gestured to a chair near him. "_Per favore._ Sit and eat with us. We have treats this morning; fresh croissants, fruit, and espresso." Robin nodded graciously, bowing her head slightly in her adopted Japanese fashion, and took a seat at the table near his. 

Sela was on the other side of Seth, smiling warmly at the young chestnut-haired Witch. "Robin, you have not met the others in our group," she said, motioning to four additional people seated at the table whom Robin had not met the previous day. "This is Noa," she said, pointing to an olive-skinned woman with medium-length black hair, and went on to point to three more men at the table, "Gal, Chanan, and Evan. The men are from Africa, Spain, and France, respectively; Noa is from the Middle East." They all nodded and smiled at Robin in accordance. 

Sela smiled at Robin as she daintily buttered a croissant for herself. "Robin is a very powerful Craft-user...I think she will be a real asset to this team," she said, casually addressing her remark to the group as a whole. "You will all be amazed when you see what she's capable of during a Hunt." 

Robin ducked her head, slightly modest. "I didn't help very much last night," she admitted, and was surprised to hear the self-deprecating remark from her own mouth. _Am I that eager to please them?_

The dark-haired Noa spoke up, in a thick eastern accent. "That's right; I heard that partner of yours, _Amon_, made the shot last night." She regarded Robin with what seemed a smug air, seated back in her chair with her legs crossed, a cigarette dangling between her fingertips. She eyed the young Witch up and down. "Just how did a young girl like you hook up with _that_ guy, anyway?" 

Robin wasn't completely sure of the comment's meaning. She almost felt the need to defend Amon, but she did not know from what. "Ah...I met him, in Japan. SOLOMON sent me to work with him at STN-J." 

"SOLOMON did?" Noa asked now with interest, and Robin caught Seth's glance out of the corner of her eye. 

She nodded. "_Si._ The priest---" she made a quick decision not to reveal his name, "---who raised me and trained me did." 

Seth seemed curious now, also. He had put down his fork and turned towards her. "Robin, did SOLOMON ask anything else of you while you were in Japan?" 

She lowered her eyes as she took a sip of espresso, before responding. "_Si..._they wanted me to find the Arcanum of the Craft. That was my undercover mission." 

"And...did you find it?" Noa asked persistently. "The Arcanum?" 

"I..." Robin paused, uncertainly. "I'm not sure." It wasn't Methusalah's stick, she had come to realize, that was the Arcanum....Sastre had shown her exactly how useless the 'Piece of Wisdom' really was that fateful day she had encountered him in the Walled City. The powers spoken to have been associated with the Piece of Wisdom / Ultimate Technique were actually hers all along. But was that what the Arcanum of the Craft really was---the ability to see the elements, the gift which Toudou had bequeathed to her? Or was it something more... 

A low baritone interrupted the conversation, drawing the interested gazes at the table. "No. She did not find it." Robin looked up in astonishment to see Amon standing before the group, fully dressed, his expression remote. 

Seth remained seated, beckoning to him. "Amon. _Benvenuto_, have a seat." 

To Seth's and the rest of the table's surprise---they had expected him to decline---Amon joined them, seating himself next to Robin. She glanced at his face to judge his mood, but quickly looked away when he turned his stern gray eyes in her direction. She thought she could detect displeasure radiating from him as he sat motionless beside her. 

"We were just discussing the Arcanum of the Craft," Seth said conversationally, as he sat back in his chair. "You wouldn't happen to be familiar with that aspect of SOLOMON lore, would you, Amon?" he finished, with a hint of a smile. 

Amon seemed to immediately engross himself in drinking from his offered cup of espresso. "Not particularly." 

"_Vedo._ I can tell you what _I_ know...and that is, that SOLOMON has been searching for this Arcanum of the Craft for centuries...even millennia. As long as the organization has been functioning, that is how long they have been looking for it. Supposedly, not only is it proclaimed to harbor the 'ultimate technique' of Witchcraft, but it is also supposed to reveal the location of someone rather...important." His sly smile told them he was holding something back. 

"Someone important?" Robin inquired, her curiosity now piqued. This hadn't been something that Father Juliano had revealed to her. "_Chi è?_" 

Seth smiled benevolently. "Someone evil, _tesoro_." His blue eyes flashed with something akin to mischief. "_Il demonio._" 

"_Demonio?_" she asked in an incredulous whisper, and she felt her blood momentarily run cold. 

"Like many other things we've heard, it is a myth," Amon said sternly, turning his eyes on her as if to admonish her for her naiveté. 

Something tugged at the edges of her perception, and Robin turned back to Seth, her soft voice laced with interest. "This person...._il demonio_...was to be found in Japan?" she asked, hesitantly. 

He shrugged as he finished the last of his breakfast, sitting back in his chair. "That is what the Prophecy says. But as your friend Amon says, it is a myth, _no?_" He smiled at her again. 

"You know quite a decent amount of SOLOMON mythology," Amon commented dryly, meeting Seth's eyes almost in challenge, and prompting a couple of heated glares from the other Coven members at the breakfast table. 

"Know thy enemy," Seth shot back. He stood from his chair, looking at Robin with affection. "We shall speak later, _tesoro._" Robin nodded, a bit shyly; she did not catch Amon's furtive glance in her direction as she did. 

Noa was smirking around her cigarette, holding it in an elegant pose between her fingers as she leaned forward with her elbows on the table to regard Amon. "So....the new sniper," she remarked coolly, exhaling as she did. "They said your skill exceeds Leor's. That's difficult to do." She took another pensive drag on the cigarette, watching him. 

Amon did not bother to look up at her from his meal of fruit and croissants. "Apparently not as difficult as some of you believed." Robin's eyes widened imperceptibly at his comment to Noa. 

The look on the dark-haired woman's face turned suddenly frosty. "Leor is one of the _best_ any of us have seen....that was a compliment, to even place you in the same category with him." The hand holding her cigarette trembled, betraying her anger. 

This time, Amon looked up, his gray eyes as hard as ice. "Then I should feel flattered," he said, without missing a beat. "_Grazie._" 

Noa angrily ground out the remainder of her cigarette, glaring at Amon, and rose from the table. Hedya, the blonde Witch, and a couple of the others followed her. 

Robin looked at her partner in confusion. It wasn't like him to intentionally incite someone to anger in such a childish manner; even with provocation, he usually ignored such comments. None of the Coven members had reacted too kindly to his attitude either, except for Sela, who was smiling to herself as though she were in on what Robin felt must have been an inside joke. 

"Not making very many friends, are you, Amon," Sela chided in Italian-accented English, glancing over at him. Amon's features relaxed slightly before he spoke again. 

"We're not here to make friends," he said, and his tone became serious again as he looked directly at Sela. "We are here because we have no other choice." Robin bowed her chestnut head in the direction of her lap at his words, feeling as though they were mostly directed at her. 

Sela nodded sagely. "_Capisco._" She smiled again, with a knowing look. "But I hope that eventually, we will earn your trust." 

"That remains to be seen," Amon asserted, finishing his espresso. He set his cup down, looking at it thoughtfully before directing his next words to the brunette Witch. "It would be advisable to keep me informed of background details on subsequent Hunts, if you and Seth desire to earn mine." 

She bowed her head obediently. "I will speak to him about it." 

Amon shook his head as he rose from the table. "I have already informed him." 

Robin stood at the same time as her partner, her hopeful emerald gaze fixed on him. "Amon," she said softly, and his movement faltered. Her voice, with its tenderness and faintest trace of yearning, had apparently retained its ability to stop him in his tracks, he noted to his dismay. 

He had wondered before this if the change of scenery they were in would allow him to be able to resist her. Away from the almost magical, mystical aura of Sovana, with its charm and beauty, he had thought that perhaps he could squelch the desire he'd felt for her while they were there. A part of him visibly surrendered to the realization that it was _not_ dependent upon location, that it was not going to go away...and that he would ultimately end up giving in to it, after all, despite his best efforts. 

"_Hai?_" he answered her, his voice softening almost unwillingly. 

"I was going to take a walk around the castle grounds," she began, hesitant. "I was wondering if...you would like to..." 

Silently he nodded, avoiding her eyes, and from where Sela remained seated, she could see the change in his demeanor. Whereas a moment earlier he had been prepared to leave the patio area without her, his very presence turned away and closed off; he was now turned to face her, his dark eyes fixed on her form as she turned away, the posture of his body open and focused on her. Sela discreetly studied him, fascinated. 

"_Scusi,_" Robin offered, leaving her position at the table, heading in the opposite direction of her partner, out into the courtyard and into the greenery beyond the castle. 

Amon nodded to the few remaining Coven members politely before pushing in his chair and leaving the patio area, following the young chestnut-haired Witch. 

They walked silently along the trimmed grass, staying on the border of foliage surrounding the castle grounds; below them in the distance they could see the green expanse of land, stretching on, nearly never-ending. 

"There's a swimming pool there," Robin noted softly, pointing at an angle slightly down the hill; and just past the stone walkway jutting out from the grass, Amon could see a pool of brilliantly blue water, surrounded by soft greenery and overlooking the valley. 

She turned to face him, childish excitement bubbling in the emerald eyes. "I'm going to go swimming later tonight." 

"It gets cold in the evening," he warned, his expression stern but his voice gentle. "Perhaps you should wait until tomorrow." 

Her excitement faltered for a moment, during which he internally chastised himself for discouraging her. Then she turned her eyes back to him again, the happiness restored in them. 

"You're right," she said with a half-smile. "I forgot how cold it gets at night. _Arigatou_...for reminding me of it." 

Instead of replying, he walked on, facing straight ahead. He was aware out of the corner of his eye that she was still watching him interestedly. 

"Amon," she began, still with her gentle softness, "it's been a while since we've been alone like this together, hasn't it?" She mirrored his actions and kept her gaze neutral and faced straight ahead. 

His posture stiffened. _Just how loaded is this question?_

"I mean, alone taking walks, together," she offered. 

A pause. "_Hai._" It had, in fact, been several days since they'd had a chance to walk outside together, as they'd made a daily habit of doing in Sovana before the trip to Siena and the Hunter's attack. He was not surprised to realize that he had come to depend on the amount of time they spent in each other's company; not for Hunting, or looking for information....just simply, _being_. 

"This place is so large, it's strange...I suppose it's because I'm used to the security of Jana's house....of having everyone so close," she went on, perhaps to break the uneasy silence between them. "Knowing that you and Jana were close by...I miss that feeling, that reassurance." 

He felt himself pulled, again, to assuage her concerns. "My room isn't far from yours....it's just upstairs." He nearly bit his lip after saying it, aware of an unintentional innuendo he'd made up in his own head. 

"_Lo so._" She seemed to have not caught any undertones in his meaning, and he secretly relaxed. "But it isn't the same, you have to admit." She looked up at him again. "I'm not as comfortable here as I thought I would be," she admitted, slightly discomfited. "Perhaps because of the Hunt from last night." 

Amon found himself in the place he'd been the previous night....torn between the desires to leave and stay. As much as he felt himself echoing Robin's statements of unease and wanting to alleviate her fears, at the same time he remembered Seth's words, and his own vow against SOLOMON. _It is us against them._ They had made him what he was now...and he would not forgive them for it. If staying with Seth and his Coven allowed him some revenge, all the better. 

So, he said nothing. 

As if she read his thoughts, she spoke up again. "Did you read Vincenzo's notes?" 

"I was reading some of them, yes." He walked on. "It's not an easy read." 

"Did you find more mention of the experiments involving your mother in the writing?" 

He hesitated, remembering the strange entries he'd read. He didn't want to share them with her yet. "Not very much." 

She was vastly curious. "But you did find _something_." 

"Nothing worth disclosing." Amon was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with her probing questions. 

She could sense he was closing himself off again, and she sought to prevent it, turning to face him and putting a gentle hand on his arm. She felt him jump in response to her touch, but it didn't prevent her from speaking the words that she felt he needed to hear. 

"Amon, it's not her fault," she said, her voice barely above a whisper; but she recoiled slightly when she saw the anger brimming in his eyes as he suddenly looked at her. 

She could not stop the words, no matter how gently delivered, flowing from her mouth. "You don't know for a fact that her powers corrupted her....it's SOLOMON who---" 

He stopped walking, leveling his dark gaze at her, his voice laced heavy with warning. "I am not discussing this with you right now." _Or ever again._

She ducked her head. "_Gomenasai._ I was only trying to help you." 

"I don't need your help." He stood back, distancing himself physically. "This conversation is over." 

"Amon," she pleaded softly, moving towards him despite the wounds his cold words had inflicted. She wished now that she had stayed quiet, but he had already turned away, stalking off in the direction of the castle. She watched him go, her hands laced together in front of her, her countenance heavy with sadness. 

_We are constant companions to our demons,_ she thought. _You have yours, Amon....and perhaps my tendency to cause you pain and discomfort is mine._

__

__

Amon stormed into his suite, slamming the door behind him in a fluid rush. Straight to the desk he marched, until he stood before Benedetto's notes and files, strewn out across the tabletop from last night's efforts to decipher them. He scowled darkly at the paperwork in front of him. 

With a furious arm, he swept it off the face of the desk until nothing remained, the loose papers and files fluttering gently to the floor. He braced his arms on the desktop, trying to control his anger. His entire body trembled with the force of his emotions that had finally bubbled up to the surface, after he'd fought so hard the night before to suppress them. 

_It _was_ her fault...she had lost complete control...she had turned herself into a monster.... _

...Hadn't she? 

He didn't want to meditate on it anymore. There was no point to it. What was the use? 

_Damn it all to hell._

A tentative knock was at the door of his suite. "Amon?" 

For a horrifying moment he thought it was Robin, but he realized the feminine voice was just slightly deeper than hers, less whispery. "_Si?_" he managed, forcing himself to calm down. 

Sela pushed open his door, her brown eyes expressing a modicum of surprise at the paperwork strewn all over the floor near the desk. "_Scusi_ for...interrupting..." she began hesitantly, and he realized his eyes must have still unwittingly been reflecting his anger from a moment before. "But I have the name of the SOLOMON Hunter whom we disposed of last night; I thought you would find the information on him useful." 

Robin continued along the path that wound around the castle, heading down the hill into the trees below. She had almost reached the barrier of the trees at the edge of the drive, when she heard a familiar voice calling out behind her, and footsteps running. 

"_Tesoro...far rallentare._" She turned in mild surprise, to see Seth running up behind her on the walkway. 

He stopped before her, panting, as she regarded him with a curious expression on her face. "Were you going to walk all the way to town by yourself, _tesoro?_" he asked her, breathing heavily from his run. 

"_Non,_" she said, shaking her head with a slightly bemused look. "I was simply walking to the edge of the trees, and then coming back." 

"Well, then, allow me to escort you back," he responded, offering his arm gallantly, as a gentleman would. "_Per favore._" 

She half-smiled and shyly took his arm, folding her small hand into the crook of his elbow, and they began walking back up to the castle. 

"You take walks like this every day, do you?" he asked conversationally, and she shook her head. 

"Not every day. But I have tried to do it as often as I could." She shrugged her shoulders in a single graceful movement. "Even while growing up in the monastery, I would walk to nearby towns; we did not use cars often. In Japan, almost everyone drives, or takes the train....but walking is ingrained in me, by habit, I guess." 

"A nun's habit," he remarked, his boyish features forming a sly grin. His smile grew wider as she shook her head insistently. 

"I'm not a nun," she asserted in seriousness. "I was never trained to be a bride of Christ...only to hunt Witches, according to SOLOMON's doctrines." 

"But you do believe in God, _si?_" he inquired, and she found herself nodding uncertainly. "You don't seem to be completely confident of that, _tesoro._" 

"I have always believed in God, and prayed to Him....I had even felt certain when I was younger that He was listening to me," she said softly, her gaze straight ahead as she bowed her chestnut head in thought. "I have grown up living by the Church's standards...even going so far as to believe that my powers as a Witch were given to me by Him." She glanced up at him as they continued to walk, looking into his blue eyes. "But now I realize that isn't the truth." 

Seth nodded, his eyes downcast briefly. "I have never been able to believe in him...knowing what I was from a young age, it was hard for me to believe that the Judean judgmental God could tolerate a Witch." He looked up at the sky above them, white clouds swirling in an expanse of blue. "_'Thou shall not suffer a Witch to live'_...Exodus, 22:18." He turned to face her, and smiled again with a boyish grin. "And I was right." 

His insinuation did not sit well with Robin. She instantly recalled Amon's words to Zaizen during their confrontation in Factory..._God does not abandon anyone._

"SOLOMON has always prided itself on doing God's work," she said slowly, to emphasize her words, "but no one except God can support their claims. I don't believe God hates Witches...we are also his children." 

Seth nodded. "_Interessante._ Do you really believe that...even in the face of the notion that he has forsaken us, and that Witches are the children of the Goddess, Diana?" 

"I have heard of that, yes." She smiled back up into his eyes. "It would seem many Witches believe in the Goddess." 

Seth cocked his head to the side as he looked her over more carefully. "You are familiar with rituals, then?" 

"_Non,_" she explained. "Just with some mythology." 

"We will be enacting a ritual later on today," he said pointedly. "I would very much like to see you be a part of it." She nodded in acquiescence. "Perhaps when you've seen it enacted, you will be more inclined to accept the belief in Diana as your own, as well." 

She ducked her head. "I do not disbelieve that Diana exists," she admitted, and his eyebrows rose interestedly. "Nevertheless, I cannot deny what my heart tells me...that the God I have placed my faith in has not abandoned me." 

"_Vedo,_" he smiled, as they neared the castle's entrance, and he lowered his arm to allow her to step inside the door before him, his hand lightly guiding her at her back. "I admire your strength of belief, _tesoro._" He stepped before her after they'd entered, and began leading her down the hallway. "_Avanti_---our meeting starts in a half hour. We are to be briefed on our next assignment." 

As they entered the castle, neither took notice of a dark-clothed figure in a window above, having watched them as they had walked up the entire length of the drive. 

Nearly all the Coven members had assembled in a large conference room, seated in high-backed chairs around a mahogany desk. A laptop computer was hooked up to a digital projector on the table, facing the end of the room, which was covered by a large blank screen. 

The other members looked up as Robin entered the room, Seth close behind her. She chose a seat as Seth addressed the group. 

"Should we wait for Amon?" he inquired, to which a few of the Coven, namely Noa and Hedya, shook their heads. Before Robin could speak on his behalf, the door to the conference room opened again suddenly, and Amon strode in looking slightly disheveled, as though he'd ran to make it. 

"_Scusi._" He took a seat opposite the table from Robin, her gaze following him until he'd seated himself; at which she averted her eyes once she caught his stare. 

"_Bene!_ Let us begin." Seth tapped keys on the laptop and brought up a file displayed on the projector screen. Robin's eyes widened as she viewed the face of the man they'd Hunted the night before. 

"Those of us who participated in last night's Hunt recall this man," Seth began, "Paolo Contini...thirty years old; a member of SOLOMON for approximately ten years. In his career with the organization, he had Hunted a total of five hundred and thirty-two Witches." 

Robin nearly gasped to herself in shock. He had seemed so lost, so helpless...it was hard to believe the man they'd attacked the night previous had killed so many. 

Seth clicked on another key, changing the profile on the screen. "Our new Target for today is not just one Hunter---it's two." The image revealed a man and a woman, both appearing to be of Eurpoean descent. "Elsa Darveau, French; and Marcello Assante, Italian. Both have been with SOLOMON for thirteen years, and in that amount of time, working together as partners, they have eliminated over fifteen hundred Witches from Europe alone." His hand on the mouse moved down to the information portion of the file. 

"Assante is an illusionist; he can cause his victims to undergo sometimes violent hallucinations, to the point of not being able to tell illusion from reality. After that, he attacks; and he is quite skilled in basic hand-to-hand combat. The woman, Elsa, usually works in conjunction with him, and her Craft is Shadowcasting. She can manipulate the darkforce to both absorb and attack. 

"It has come to our attention, via our internal spy, that they are currently in Grosseto today and tomorrow...so we aim to have this task completed by this afternoon. I will only be needing Hedya, Robin, and Amon to accompany me." Robin discreetly noted Sela's disheartened expression from further down the length of the table. 

"With that said, everyone is free to go, except those whom I mentioned will be participating in the Hunt today. The rest of you, please head out to the dining area to enjoy the catered lunch provided, courtesy of _Leone's_." The Coven members began to shuffle out of the room slowly, save for Hedya, Amon and Robin. Seth turned to the three as he stood at the head of the table before them. 

"Amon, I assume you realize we will need to make use once again of your sniping abilities for this attack," he intoned, "especially considering with hallucination and shadow, direct attacks may prove difficult." 

Amon nodded solemnly, and Robin glanced surreptitiously at him from the corner of her eye. 

"Robin and I will attack first with our combined Crafts; but because Elsa is a Shadowcaster, our powers may not be as effective as we hope; therefore Hedya will be our backup attack." 

"What method of attack will you use?" Robin asked, turning to the pale Nordic woman, and Hedya smiled at her in response. 

"Sound waves," she responded, smirking. "Even if light is absorbed by the Shadowcaster, I should be able to distract her enough for Amon to get in a clean shot." 

"It is settled, then," Seth finished, spreading a map of the township before them on the table. "We will intercept them at four this afternoon, by the Ombrone. Robin, Hedya and I will attack from here," he pointed to a spot on the shore of the river, "and Amon will maintain a position over here, for sniper attack...._è chiaro?_" 

All three nodded, and the meeting was dispersed. 

Hours later, Robin answered a soft knock at the door of her suite. 

Upon opening it, she was startled to see a figure standing in the doorway in a long, dark blue hooded robe, its head bowed. The figure raised its head to reveal brown eyes and wisps of brunette hair. 

"Sela?" Robin asked, surprised and curious; but Sela smiled, putting a finger to her own lips in the gesture of silence and taking the chestnut-haired Witch's hand to lead her wordlessly out of the suite and down the hallway. 

Robin stifled her urge to ask whispered questions in Italian....where were they going? Was this a Witches' ritual? Was she dressed appropriately? She decided the questions didn't matter after all, as she saw two of the other Coven members, Gideon and Ethan, leading Amon downstairs from his own suite. Both men were robed similarly to Sela, and holding candles. 

Amon looked down to meet her eyes, his full of concern---she offered him a small half-smile to comfort him. 

They were led by the robed figures to the doors of a conference room at the end of the hallway, and watched as the doors were opened to reveal a room of total darkness. 

"_Avanti,_" Sela spoke, guiding them into the room, and Amon and Robin glanced at each other before stepping cautiously inside, he shielding her as they moved forward. Their robed guardians entered behind them, closing the doors and plunging the room again into darkness. 

Candles were lit, revealing the other seven members of the Coven, seated in a circle on the floor, gazing up at their entrance. From where he sat in his dark blue robe, Seth motioned to both of them. 

"_Miei amici,_....before you enter into our Circle, our Sanctuary, in perfect love and perfect trust....you shall be purified, a cleansing of the body and mind. With this purification you shall be ready to enter into the threshold of the Covenstead." 

"Remove your shoes," Sela whispered, bringing forward a bowl of water before them. Both removed their boots as Seth continued to speak. 

"Anoint yourselves with the water, from foot to wrist to forehead, and repeat these words: 'I am of thee and thou art mine, I have nothing which is not of thee. In thy name, Diana, behold thy anointed servant. I should some day be great as thou art.'" 

Amon, after hesitation, dipped his fingers into the bowl, preparing to touch his wet fingertips to his own wrist. Sela stopped him. 

"You must anoint _each other,_" Seth spoke, a lilt of humor in his voice. 

Robin swallowed nervously, as Amon stood motionless for a long moment. _Perhaps he isn't going to go through with it..._

Before she could think further, he stepped forward; and to her shock, he knelt before her, touching his moistened fingers to her bare feet beneath her long skirt. 

"I am of thee and thou art mine," he said, his voice low and soft in the darkness, and Robin felt herself holding her breath. "I have nothing which is not of thee." He stood again, dipping his fingers into the bowl and touching them this time to the insides of her wrists, his eyes lowered from hers. "In thy name, Diana, behold thy anointed servant." He dipped his fingers once more, bringing his single index finger to touch her forehead. Robin watched his eyes, mesmerized by their gleam in the darkness, as she felt the cool moisture on her forehead. "I should some day be great as thou art," he finished, his voice even softer then when he'd began. 

Once Robin had regained proper breathing functions, she repeated his actions and words, the Coven watching in the glow of the candles. 

"You may now enter the Circle," Seth bade them, and they seated themselves among the other members in the circle. 

Soft chanting began around the Circle, followed the rise of calm voices in song. The newly anointed ones sat silently in the dark circle, slightly confused. Robin stole glances at her partner in the darkness, the candlelight throwing contrasting light and dark planes across his face. 

Finally they stopped singing, each hooded figure bowing their heads momentarily, before Seth spoke up again. 

"There is no part of us which is not of the Gods," he said to the group; and with those words, he stood, walking to the center of the circle. He removed his hood and waited. 

To Robin and Amon's mutual surprise, Noa stood, pulling the hood back from her raven-black hair, and walked to the center of the circle to join him. They stood facing each other. 

"Listen to the words of the Great Mother, who was of old also called Artemis, Astarte, Isis, Aphrodite, Diana, Brigid.....by many more names is she known," Seth spoke. "Great Mother, I invoke thee...Bringer of all Fruitfulness, Beauty of the Green Earth, White Moon among the Stars, and Desire of the Heart of Man." 

Noa spoke. "I am entering the stillness before creation...I am entering the ground of the Goddess. May my body be still. May my mind be peaceful. May my heart be ready. May all that I realize today benefit all creation." With completion of her words, Noa opened her robe at the neck, allowing it to slide down her bare shoulders to the floor. She was unclothed underneath. 

Robin's eyes went wide as saucers, and Amon nearly gasped in shock. 

Before either of them could fully react, Seth had also dropped his robe, revealing his own nudity. He began to move towards Noa. 

Amon leapt up, dragging Robin to her feet by her arm, and began to move towards the door of the room. Gideon and Ethan attempted to stop him. "_Ehi!_ You can't just leave the sacred Circle like that!" 

"Get out of my way." His voice had a lethal edge to it as he pulled a startled and wide-eyed Robin along behind him. Her eyes still glued to the Coven and the circle, she saw some of them watching their hasty retreat with amusement. She also saw a flash of sadness on Sela's face as the brunette Witch gazed upon the naked forms of Seth and Noa. 

He threw open the doors, pulling her outside along with him, before shutting them behind him again. He released her arm, but he turned away from her as though he were unable to face her. A moment passed, during which the only sound heard was that of his breathing, slowly calming as he replaced the boots on his feet. 

"There was no need for you to see such a thing," he said quietly; his voice no longer angry, instead sounding as though he were repentant. 

Robin merely looked up at him, sensing his discomfort. While she had been surprised by the nudity she'd seen in the circle, strangely, she hadn't been offended by it. But it had seemed to disturb Amon on a different level. 

She was still somewhat wary of his anger, remembering earlier that morning how she had upset him; as a result, she unobtrusively bowed her head and began to walk in the direction of her suite. 

His hand, much gentler than before, reached out to take her forearm. "_Ikanaide._" 

She looked up at his face in wonderment. 

"Do you want to read an email from Nagira?" he asked her, feeling slightly awkward as he did, as though he were tempting her to his room with candy; but he did not want the Coven members to entice her back into the ritual. The half-smile he saw on her face in response to his words was enough to ease his mind. 

"_Si._" She followed him up the long staircase. 

Robin went to look out the window in Amon's suite, at the dark green forest and the sprawling coastline beyond it. The refreshing afternoon breeze came in, tousling wisps of chestnut hair around her face. 

"It's up," he said to her from the desk, and she turned back to face him as he returned his gaze to the laptop computer booting up. She went and stood behind his shoulder to read, watching the screen as he pulled up his email. The message from Nagira appeared. 

**Otouto,  
I checked _and_ double-checked the name you gave me.... **Paolo Contini**...and what you were told about his connections with that organization appears to be right on. Ten years....and he's killed over five hundred of them. I didn't find any information to suggest otherwise; he was definitely a long-time member. I also checked on the names you gave me of the Coven members, but I couldn't find anything big concerning any groups that were US/UK funded. Perhaps it's to cover tracks so that the Organization doesn't get to them? Keep that in mind as a possibility.  
So, he took her arm while they were walking, eh? Sounds like a pretty smooth guy, if you ask me. It also sounds like he's on the make; of course we both know she's not the type of girl to fall prey to----**

_Goddammit, Nagira._ Amon scowled darkly and attempted to close the message. Robin gave a soft noise of protest. "What was that? What was he talking about near the end?" 

Amon shut it down. "_Niente._" He regained his neutral composure and scoffed lightly. "You know Nagira, always horsing around when he should be serious about things." He looked up at her standing near his shoulder, folding his arms across his chest. 

"So it seems he _was_ a Hunter for SOLOMON," Robin said thoughtfully. Her mind flashed back to the previous night. "He just seemed so frightened....so helpless." 

Amon sat back in the chair, his arms still folded, his gaze distant. "I did not observe his behavior much before he died....but he was, as you said, very afraid." His eyes narrowed in thought. 

"Perhaps he was remorseful, before he died," she postulated, "for all of the deaths he had caused." _Five hundred..._perhaps the ghosts of those he'd Hunted had come back to haunt him in what he knew would be his final moments. 

"Possibly." Amon did not sound convinced. Bast appeared, weaving herself between his legs as he sat at the desk, and he reached a distracted hand down to pet the cat. 

She took advantage of the momentary lull to express the thoughts that had nagged her since the morning. "Amon..." He looked up at her again, drawn by the soft voice. 

"_Mi perdoni,_" she whispered. "For what I said this morning." She lowered her eyes. "I had no right to say anything about it." 

His discomfort had returned. "_Nandemonai._" He looked away from her again. 

The stillness between them grew, a moment stretching out into the next until Robin could no longer bear the weight of his silence. She was preparing to leave the room, when she suddenly glanced at the floor and noticed Benedetto's paperwork carelessly strewn about, pushed aside to a corner. 

"This is...?" she asked quietly, and bent to retrieve some of the loose files. She rifled through a couple of them, until she came to a picture that gave her pause....and made her gasp with shock and recognition. 

It was a drawing of a man---presumably a God of some sort---with the head of a curved-horned ram. 

Instantly she recalled the startling dreams she'd had of Amon with the head of the horned beast. _It had been a ram's head in my dream._

"What---" Her throat had seized up with surprise. "What is---" 

Something in her alarmed voice had roused him from his self-imposed sulking, and he turned to look at what she held before her. "That's from Benedetto's file," he explained quietly, looking back at her face, surprised to see the anxiety there. 

"_Doushita?_" he asked, his voice soft again with concern for her. 

Robin felt her mind spinning, her vision becoming cloudy, and forced herself to turn her eyes on him. When she did, she wished she hadn't. 

Again, before his face, she saw the head of the ram, with its red eyes and curved horns. _The Devil's face._

It was happening now even when she was awake. 

_Amon....why do I continue to see this image of you?....what does this mean? _

...what are_ you?_

Seth's words came to her. _...it is also supposed to reveal the location of someone important....someone _evil_, tesoro.... _

...il demonio. 

The telephone in Amon's suite rang with a high-pitched shrill, jolting them both out of the moment. Amon turned back to the desk and answered it with an abrupt tone, Robin looking forlornly on after him. "_Si?_" 

He listened to the person on the other end, as Robin slowly gathered her wits. "_Si,_" he said again, before replacing the receiver in its cradle. 

"It's time," he told her. "The Hunt begins now." 

Robin was strapped into the front seat of Amon's BMW as they sped down the hill, approaching the township of Grosseto and headed towards the Ombrone River. Hedya rode in the backseat, directing them. 

"You missed a nice ritual," she said to both of them playfully halfway into the ride, gauging their reactions. 

Amon's eyes flicked for a second to the rearview mirror to meet hers. "I'm sure," he said, not bothering to disguise the contempt in his voice. Hedya ignored it and turned to Robin. 

"Drawing Down the Moon....it's a ritual we perform to draw the power of the Goddess into one of the female Coven members," she explained as Robin half-turned her head to listen to her. "It's actually a very powerful and beautiful ceremony." 

"What is the purpose of being na---" Robin began, but was cut off by her partner. 

"We're here," Amon asserted, stopping the car a distance off from the shore of the river. They spotted Seth's Jaguar not far away, and the three of them exited Amon's car. 

Seth approached them from where he'd parked, holding the sniper rifle. He handed it to Amon, along with several packets of ammunition. "Go ahead and take your position; they're not here yet, but we'll see them soon enough." Amon nodded, and with another glance at Robin, departed for his sniping position. 

Seth turned to Robin and Hedya. "Now all we have to do is wait. Sela is a few miles ahead, in an observational spot---she will notify us when our Targets approach." 

Robin looked at the blond man for a long moment as he turned to watch the riverbank, recalling an hour ago when she had seen him completely unclothed in the candlelit ritual. She blushed faintly at her whimsical thought, and turned her face away. 

As if on cue, Seth's phone rang. He flipped open his cellular. "Sela," he answered in anticipation, and paused momentarily to hear her words. "_Grazie,_" he responded, clicking it shut. He turned to Hedya and Robin. 

"They're on their way. They're coming from the north." 

Amon positioned himself on a slope on the other side of the river, flattening himself against the ground to get adequate leverage with the rifle. He loaded the clip methodically with the rune-marked bullets. As he did, he heard words in his head from earlier, haunting him. 

_....It's not her fault.... _

It's SOLOMON who---- 

A hushed whisper. _Mi perdoni. I had no right to say anything about it._

He struggled to rid his mind of the words, fought to focus his concentration on the task before him. 

Clouds above them had darkened in the late afternoon, casting shadows over the landscape; dark gray and swirling, they hovered above the river's shore where Seth and the two women waited for the SOLOMON Hunters. 

A beep from his cellular alerted Seth to the fact that the Targets were close. "Hedya," he said lowly, directing her behind the trees. He and Robin would approach first. 

"Take my arm, as you did this morning, _tesoro,_" he urged Robin quietly. "We'll make it look as though we're lovers, taking a leisurely stroll by the riverbank." 

She ducked her head shyly and acquiesced, putting her small hand in the crook of his arm again, and they began walking. Her senses were awakened and alert, her small half-moon glasses perched atop her nose in anticipation. 

Ahead of them not more than forty feet, another man and woman were walking together, their bodies turned slightly inward towards each other, their steps in unison. They were a handsome couple; the man with his short dark hair and chocolate eyes, and the woman with her soft, ash-blonde hair and porcelain complexion. 

Seth and Robin walked on, their pace the same as the couple's, the distance between the four shortening. Thirty....twenty.....ten. 

Robin glanced up at the couple's faces as they passed curiously. They were glancing nervously about, their eyes darting to take in the landscape around them; and as Robin and Seth had passed, the Hunters had eyed them skeptically....their gazes held a trace of fear. 

_Once again...they are unreasonably afraid,_ Robin realized. 

It wasn't until they were ten feet past the SOLOMON agents that Seth stopped her in her tracks, and turned to face them. Robin heard the distant rumble of thunder in the sky above. 

The Hunters had heard it also, and seeing the unusual cloud formation above them, turned back to look fearfully at Robin and Seth. The woman, Elsa, gave a sharp cry of recognition. 

"_Eccoli!_" she cried to her companion, and the man darted away, towards a pedestrian bridge that spanned the river. Elsa remained facing her enemies, her eyes narrowed and angry as she bought time for her companion to escape. 

Seth's eyes flashed as he unleashed his Craft against the female Hunter. The wind instantly picked up, and bolts of lightning flashed in the clouds above them. 

Elsa held her arms in front of her, palms facing upwards, and focused as the lightning began to rain down all around her. Her eyes glowed eerily, and within seconds she had enveloped the area around her in pitch darkness. From her outstretched palms, she absorbed the bolts of pure light and energy that were fired upon her from the sky. 

"It's no good!" Seth yelled to Robin, over the roar of the storm he'd created. "She's absorbed the light. Try your flame!" 

Robin's eyes lit with her fire, and directed it against the female Hunter---but her fire too was absorbed by the growing shadow that was surrounding them. 

"Hedya!" Seth called out, panic starting to creep into his voice; and the Nordic woman appeared to face off with the SOLOMON agent. Seth pulled Robin aside and motioned for her to cover her ears as he did. Without hesitation, Hedya opened her mouth....and from the depths of her vocal chords, came a piercing, vibrating _shriek_, like nothing Robin had ever heard in her entire life. 

The wailing and shrieking noise rose higher in the air, shattering glass from nearby lampposts; and for a moment, it appeared as though the Shadowcaster was becoming affected by it, attempting to cover her ears in a futile gesture. 

But just as suddenly, the darkness increased; her palms were outstretched again, and Hedya's incredible sonic blast was diluted and absorbed. 

"_No!_" the Nordic woman cried in frustration, just as the shadow enveloped her completely. Seth and Robin could no longer see her, but could hear her muffled screams. 

Across the river, Amon had seen that all hell had broken loose, and was focusing the crosshairs of his rifle on Elsa. He had a clean head shot. His finger depressed the trigger--- 

---but suddenly the female Hunter had been replaced with _Robin_. She turned to look at him, as though she could see him far away through the barrel of the rifle, and he gasped out loud, loosening the trigger. 

_Kuso._ He had almost fired on her! The sight of her in the crosshairs made him almost immobile with fear. 

He took his eye away from the lenspiece, double-checking his aim...and saw that the person in the same spot was, in fact, Elsa after all. 

"_Nani?!_" he asked himself incredulously, just as his vision completely darkened over. His eyes were consumed in darkness. 

He sat up, jumping to his feet, stumbling backwards and gasping as he threw his arms out around him. He couldn't see at all---he was blind--- 

A heavily-booted foot collided with his midsection, causing him to double over in pain, at the same time an angry Italian male voice screamed into his ear. "_Moriri!_" 

Robin and Seth were surrounded within the same dark shroud as Hedya. It was like a tomb---black, silent, without sound or light. Robin could not even hear her own voice straining in her throat, calling out to the two other Witches. 

This was the shadow of her nightmares; the oppressive darkness that she could not see or feel or hear beyond, that enveloped her senses completely---it was what had woken her as a child in the convent during the middle of the night, as she lay panting in her bed, alone and afraid. 

It had only been her child's faith in God---and what she perceived was her own voice inside her head, speaking to her---that reminded her that she was safe, that provided her needed comfort in the moments upon waking up from her childish nightmares. _But you aren't alone. And you aren't afraid anymore. Because _he_ is with you._

Her thoughts, suddenly crystal clear in her mind as her senses were dulled, were her only consolation. _He is with you._

_Amon._

Suddenly she realized that Amon was still on the other side of the river, presumably attempting to shoot at the Hunters....but no shots had been fired before the shadow had completely covered her. The male Hunter who had escaped had possibly gone across the river to seek shelter from the attack---across the river where Amon had waited to snipe. 

Perhaps he was attacking Amon at that very moment, and she could not see or hear--- 

_Amon…_ She struggled to see through the blackness, clawed at it with her fingers as though she could remove the dark shroud surrounding her if she pulled hard enough. Her glasses were still atop the bridge of her nose---a thought flashed through her mind that they were hindering her, and she tore them impatiently from her face. 

_Amon!…_ She felt the darkness attempting to choke her, shadows moving in on her as if to draw the very breath from her lungs. She fought it breathlessly, her mind narrowed to a singular focus. All that mattered now was him....all that she fought to overcome was for him.... 

"_Amon!_" She heard her own voice ringing out where there had been only silence before. 

Simultaneously her fire burst forth, clean and pure, searing a hole in the very fabric of the darkforce that had been surrounding her...tearing apart the blackness with the force of her light. 

Elsa gasped as she witnessed the hole punched in her shadow barrier. _She can't---it is impossible!_

Robin looked across the river in time to see Amon swinging blindly at his attacker, and Marcello delivering a severe kick to his ribs, felling the dark hunter. The fire in her eyes sparked to life; Marcello's body disintegrated instantly, in a burst of searing flame. 

Amon gasped, crawling on the ground as he tried to recover the breath that had been knocked out of him. His vision hazily returning, he grabbed desperately for the sniper rifle. 

Elsa had seen her partner go up in flames and screamed, a horrified expression coming over her face. "_Nooo!_" She directed her Craft against the girl who had breached the limits of her shadow's power, her eyes livid with anger and rage. 

Robin realized her direct fire might not penetrate the Shadowcaster's absorbent powers, and instead focused her Craft as she had with the child Lucia in Sovana, concentrating on heat. She directed the searing increase in temperature against the female Hunter. 

Elsa felt her body burning inside out from the scorching heat of Robin's Craft. Her moan turned into a full-fledged screaming wail, as she held her head; buying just enough time for Amon to get her again in the crosshairs. 

A sharp crack was heard, and what was left of Elsa's head was splattered onto the grass. Robin turned her face away. 

The shadow surrounding Seth and Hedya had disappeared, and they stood shaking their heads as if to clear their minds. "Robin?" Seth asked, but she was already running to cross the river. 

She ran as fast as she was able to, across the small pedestrian bridge, her skirts flying out behind her. Up the hill, Amon was lying in the grass, unable to move; his breathing labored due to his injuries. 

"_Amon!_" she cried, running to his side, and fell to her knees beside him. A side of his face was bruised, and blood caked at one of the corners of his mouth. He took several ragged breaths. 

"Are you hurt?" she whispered fervently, and with gentleness she moved to cradle his head in her lap. "_Doko desu ka?_" 

"Ribs." He winced as she moved him slightly to angle his head into her lap. "I couldn't see him," he gasped. "He had blinded me..." He looked up into the emerald eyes above him, shimmering with concern. "He tried to....make me think that....that I was going to shoot you---" 

She shushed him as one would a child. "_Daijoubu._" She held his face in her hands tenderly. 

_If I had been by his side....he would not have been injured...I would not have allowed it._ She inwardly cursed herself for not providing more protection for him. 

"You're....all right?" he managed to ask, wheezing, and she shushed him again. 

Stubbornly he persisted in trying to talk. "_Sumanai,_" he whispered in his gasping breath. She knew he was apologizing for his angry outburst earlier in the day, and she closed her eyes as she half-smiled in response, trying her best to keep from shedding tears. 

From the other side of the riverbank, Seth looked on with extreme interest. 

Despite the fact that one of them had been injured, and would probably require medical attention, it had been quite a successful hunt. 

* * *

Next chapter: 

Clouded vision...The serpentine circle....An unexpected visit. The Healing Water invokes a gentle reminder that should not be overlooked. Chapter 13. 

Italian translations!: 

miei amico: my friend  
shisoku: [Japanese] my son  
waga hitorimusuko: [Japanese] my only son  
taisetsu yo: [Japanese] you're so precious to me  
yamenasai!: [Japanese] Stop!  
Buon giorno: good morning  
Una bella dormita: a good sleep  
grazie: thank you  
certo: of course  
tesoro: treasure, darling  
Benvenuto: welcome  
Vedo: I see  
chi è?: who is it?  
il demonio: the demon  
capisco: I understand  
scusi: excuse me  
arigatou: [Japanese] thank you  
lo so: I know  
gomenasai: [Japanese] I'm sorry  
far rallentare: slow down  
per favore: please  
interessante: interesting  
avanti: come  
bene!: good!  
è chiaro?: understood?  
Ehi!: hey!  
Ikanaide: [Japanese] Don't go  
Otouto: [Japanese] younger brother  
niente: nothing  
mi perdoni: forgive me  
nandemonai: [Japanese] don't worry about it  
doushita: [Japanese] what is it?  
eccoli!: it's them!  
kuso: [Japanese] shit  
nani: [Japanese] what  
moriri!: die!   
doko desu ka: [Japanese] where is it  
daijoubu: [Japanese] it's all right  
sumanai: [Japanese] I'm sorry 

A/N: A quick note of **thank you** to angie232, who reminded me that it has officially been 1 year since I started writing on I hadn't realized it had been that long! 

I will save the remainder of review answers for next time. Thanks for the feedback, everyone---the reviews still blow me away with how flattering they are---and hope you enjoyed the chapter! . 


	14. Chapter 13: Ensnare

A/N: Okay, okay. _I lied!!!_ I'm sorry....I really tried to get this finished before another month had gone by, but it just didn't happen. I really am going to attempt to make faster updates, believe it or not (I guess that remains to be seen, now!). o.o;; With lots of Pink Floyd, Nightwish, Johann Sebastian Bach, and liberal sprinkles of Depeche Mode as writing music---it was finally accomplished. ;; Thank you, all of you who wrote inspiring notes, as well as death/torture threats; those work too, you know! grin At any rate, I hope you all enjoy this latest installment---and please take note that as of now, the rating of the fic has changed to **R**, for language as well as....other stuff.

Also I added a little bit more to the end of Chapter 12, which I felt had lacked a little bit of description; and there is a long, long, _loooong_ Q n' A session at the very end of this chapter, for those interested.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. However, my own original characters---Jana Luciano, Bast, Seth, Sela, and the others---are mine, as is the plot of this story. Please respect peoples' original ideas. Thank you!

Read on!

---

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 13: Ensnare **

* * *

****

Sela's high-heeled boots tapped hastily along marble tile, as she strode with firm purpose down the long hallway in the upstairs wing of _il Castello di Vicarello_, towards Amon's suite.

She knew that Seth and some of the others were gathered there with Amon and Robin, including the medical team hastily summoned to the castle after the last Hunt by the Ombrone. The Coven had rallied---quite surprisingly, in her opinion, for they rarely did things as a group other than the required rituals---when they'd learned from Seth of Amon's injury at the river, and several of them had rushed to the scene to help, assisting with loading the breathless and bruised Amon into the backseat of his BMW. Sela had watched as Robin hovered protectively over him during the task, even riding in the backseat with him as Hedya drove, her emerald eyes never wavering from his form as he lay prone beside her. She noted, somewhat approvingly, that the young fire Witch could be quite tenacious when the situation called for it.

As she came up to Amon's suite cautiously, she could hear Seth speaking in calm tones to the medical physician on hand, asking in quiet Italian about Amon's healing time. Sela peered in through the door to witness Seth talking to the doctor, Hedya and Gideon arranging extra blankets and pillows in the room for later need, and Robin at Amon's bedside, sitting close beside him---close enough so that she could take his hand, or he hers, if they wished. He lay propped up among pillows; shirtless, bandaged and clean, but with his dark brow furrowed.

Robin was watching the activity going on around her intently, her green gaze shifting across the room from one group to another; and Sela took the opportunity to glance again at the injured one on the bed, catching the fleeting look Amon bestowed on the chestnut-haired girl seated next to him.

It was almost as if, for a few seconds, the clouds in his stormy expression had parted and allowed a ray of momentary warmth to shine through. To Sela, it appeared as though _Robin was the only one in the room_...so intent was the look in his eyes that she witnessed. She felt her face turning slightly warm, as though she'd seen something private between them; something not meant to be revealed.

The look in the dark gray eyes changed like quicksilver as Robin turned back to face him, and Sela decided then to make her entrance. She came into the room, putting on her brightest smile. "_Grazie al cielo,_" she said sincerely, approaching the two figures on the bed.

Robin returned a tentative smile, as she'd expected; Amon's face slid predictably into his neutral mask.

"I am so glad you were not hurt worse," Sela went on in earnest, undaunted. "Did the doctor tell you how long it will take to heal?"

He shook his head in sullen response, and Robin spoke up. "The doctor doesn't think there was any internal damage...his ribs are likely bruised, not broken." She looked directly at Sela in unspoken defiance, her hands entwined demurely in her lap. "_ Ciò nonostante,_" she continued softly, "I would have felt better if we'd taken him to a hospital."

Sela gazed at her sympathetically as Seth approached, having eavesdropped on their conversation. "We can't do that, _tesoro..._" he said, his tone gently reproachful. "I already explained to you that SOLOMON checks for medical records. They are all over this area; they would swoop down upon us in minutes if they found out where we were." He came to stand beside her as she remained on Amon's bed, looking down at her and meeting her eyes with an iced-blue fondness. His lips turned slightly upwards at the sight of her concern. "Amon will be all right, _tesoro..._don't worry. _Il Dottor_ Tiero will make sure that he's properly taken care of while he's visiting us here."

Robin cast her eyes downwards, away from his view; Seth saw that Amon's steely gaze remained on him, fixing him with a look that was surely meant to intimidate.

The look on Amon's face dissipated as Robin turned to him again. "You won't be able to go on Hunts after this." What he saw in the emerald eyes made his chest feel as though it were about to seize up.

"_Dottor_ Tiero does not think it's wise," Seth cautioned, again addressing his comments specifically to Robin. "He suggested that Amon be confined to bedrest, with minimal movement for at least two weeks---"

"_Two weeks_ is too long," Amon grumbled. "I won't need that long to heal, it should only take a few da---" he made an attempt to sit up further, but winced sharply, stopping his movement and grasping his bandaged ribcage. Robin moved instantly in response, pressing him gently back against the pillows, and to his own surprise he made no move to resist her. Her proximity was intoxicating, making him slightly heady with the awareness that she was so close; the soft ends of her hair had fallen on his skin, and the scent of her alone had almost completely sapped his reserve strength. He averted his gaze as she removed her hands from his bare arms.

The doctor, a tall and wiry Italian man, had approached the group. "Give it a week and see how you feel, _signore_," Seth cautioned to Amon. "Don't overdo it." With that he turned back to walk over and converse with the doctor, Sela joining in on their discussion.

Robin looked forlornly at her partner as he sulked. "It's just for a week, then," she said quietly, although she knew the words were little solace. "_Daijoubu._"

Despite the comfort he gleaned from her presence and her soft-spoken words, Amon nevertheless let out a frustrated nasal sigh---a gust of impatience---as he leaned his head back against the pillows. "_Aa._" He hated this; hated feeling helpless, powerless. More than anything he wanted to make certain that he was with her on the Hunts, protecting her, even if it was from a distance with a sniper rifle laden with rune-marked bullets. _At least it would be better than leaving her completely in Seth's hands the entire time._ Not only that, he was convinced that Seth had grossly overestimated his needed recovery time. He'd known from the attack on Raven's Flat---as well as from childhood experiences and more recently, his injury at Factory---that his body's healing and regenerative abilities were far above average. He wondered now, absently, whom exactly he should thank for that; nature or scientific manipulation.

Robin had started to say something else to him, to mollify what she saw as his emerging temper; when she was distracted by Sela's moderately raised voice from across the room.

Sela was facing off with Seth alone, the doctor having walked away from the conversation moments earlier. Her body appeared rigid with anger, her eyes blazing and her brows knit together in consternation as she confronted him.

"_Non è giusto,_" Robin heard her whisper fiercely, as she tried to keep her voice lowered while at the same time demonstrating her disapproval. "You can't just _use_---" She said something else, but Robin could not clearly make out the words.

Seth quieted her almost forcefully, grasping her forearms and speaking to her in hushed Italian, his blond and boyish features turned stern and disciplinary. Sela looked as though she were wounded by the anger he displayed. Robin thought his expression at that moment wasn't unlike Amon's critical glare---with which she had become quite familiar over time---and she watched their interaction, fascinated, while Amon brooded on the bed next to her.

There was obviously more between Seth and Sela than initially met the eye.

Finally they parted, Seth throwing back one last glance at Amon and Robin on the bed before stalking purposefully out of the room, presumably to plan the group's next Hunt. Sela remained in the center of the room, her arms at her sides, clenching her fists in frustration before glancing in Robin's direction. Upon meeting the young Witch's concerned eyes, she slightly relaxed her posture, calming herself, and made her way back to the bedside.

"_Ti va bene?_" Robin asked gently, upon her approach.

Sela looked momentarily surprised by the question. "_Sì..._" she said, uncertainly, her features softening before they broke into a kind smile. "_Grazie._" She looked over again at Amon, who had been watching her the moment she had appeared next to Robin. "Are you going to be all right by yourself for a little while, Amon?"

He glanced between the two women, caught off guard. "_Sì,_" he answered hesitantly.

"The briefing for tomorrow's Hunt is to begin soon," Sela explained. "Robin will most likely be participating in it." The dark hunter's eyes narrowed in displeasure, and Sela felt her composure wavering. She realized she now understood what Seth had described he'd felt when confronting him; it was rather unnerving to be on the receiving end of Amon's discontent.

Robin had turned back to her partner on the bed. Her luminous green eyes, having taken on a soft glow in the room's fading afternoon light, fixed on him; and she laid her fingers on his bare arm, just a whisper of a touch. "_Io presto torno,_" she said quietly.

He nodded, still displeased, but her touch on his arm allowed some of the frustration within him to leach from his skin. The intimate contact of touching someone had always been foreign to him, for reasons beyond his traditional Japanese upbringing...however, the instance of it now wasn't causing him the discomfort he thought it should have.

Instead, he realized, he was silently mourning its loss as Robin stood to accompany Sela out of the room.

---

Robin hastened her steps to catch up to Sela, as they proceeded down the hallway from Amon's suite, leading to the stairs. "Sela?" she asked softly, concerned. She saw the brunette-haired Witch pause and straighten her spine, as though she were steeling herself for something. 

"We shouldn't keep him waiting," Sela answered in a clipped tone, and Robin could detect a trace of sadness underneath the cool, impatient exterior.

"_Sì,_" Robin responded quietly, more to herself, as Sela had walked on ahead of her.

They made it downstairs to the meeting room just before the briefing began, entering and unobtrusively taking their seats among the other Coven members seated at the conference table. Seth was again at the head, the laptop computer projecting its image on the screen at the opposite end of the table. He waited patiently, drumming his fingers on the table in front of him, for everyone to seat themselves before he began.

"As many of you know, we are now minus an excellent sniper for the next two weeks," he said, his voice controlled and authoritative. "As a result, we will have to compensate for his absence. We must not let our sponsors think that we are weakened in any way. For the next three days, we are to conduct three subsequent Hunts."

Murmurs went up around the table. It was obviously not common practice to conduct Hunts every twenty-four hours, but Seth seemed intent on setting a new agenda.

Robin pensively fingered her ammonite bracelet, garnering a semblance of security from the gemstones on her wrist. Looking over to Sela who was seated further up the table, she saw that the brunette Witch was looking down at her lap, her expression remote.

"Robin," Seth said, snapping her back to attention, "you, Gal and I will conduct tomorrow's hunt in Arcidosso tomorrow afternoon. The Hunter is this man," he said, bringing up the picture of a dark-haired man via projector, "Armand Zulueta, a Spaniard. His Craft is phase-shifting, which is a little different from the Crafts we've experienced before. He can shift objects and himself in and out of solid state, which gives him advantages in escape and agility; but I have every confidence that our combined Crafts will be able to handle his powers." He closed the file down, looking around the room. "_ E' chiaro?_" When there were no questions asked, Seth went on to describe the plan further.

The Coven was unusually quiet as plans for future Hunts were then laid out before them.

---

Dinner had been catered in from Grosseto, and Robin had declined the invitation to dine with the rest of the Coven, using Amon as an excuse. She balanced the plates of food and drink carefully as she made her way up the winding marble staircase to his suite. 

Amon had managed to pull his arms through the sleeves of a dark buttoned-down shirt that Robin had left on the bed for him; although, it looked as though the effort of buttoning it had proved to be momentarily too much for him. He had been waiting for her to come---she could tell that, from the position he was sitting in against the frame of the bed---but his face wore a dark scowl.

"Amon? _Doushita?_" she asked innocently as she entered, pushing the door closed behind her with her slight frame before she brought the plates to the small table in his room.

His expression softened slightly as he observed the food she'd brought in, but the scowl remained in his dark gray eyes. "_Nandemonai._"

She arranged his plate as it rested on the table before bringing it to his bedside, leaving hers for the moment. "_Honto ni?_" she asked with gentleness, setting the plate on his lap and handing him utensils He looked down at the meal---pan-fried scallops in red pepper sauce and risotto---as she stepped back and spoke to him again, a knowing tone in her unruffled voice.

"I think I know what is wrong, Amon." Robin folded her hands demurely in front of her black smocked dress. "You don't want me to go on the Hunt tomorrow."

Her words made him tense. "I don't want you going by yourself," he ground out quietly, looking away as he said it.

Even though she instinctively knew what he meant, she protested in a soft tone, "I won't be alone....Seth and Gal---"

"I don't want you going without _me_." His voice had taken on a firm edge, and now he met her eyes again and held them with his own.

She did not bend under his heavy gaze, but he could see that part of her resented his comment. Even so, she sought to reassure him. "Nothing will happen to me....I can protect myself, Amon."

"Not from everything, you can't." He was being deliberately ambiguous, and aware that she knew of it. When she looked patiently at him, he went on.

"You are a powerful Witch, Robin," he said methodically, slowly; "but you are still young."

Again the stubbornness was in her eyes, that steel frame underneath her delicate skin strengthening as he watched; he gazed at her, fascinated, as she spoke just as demurely as she had a moment earlier. "I am old enough to know that there was more to the two Hunters we killed today than we realized," she told him calmly.

"_Nani?_" Now she had piqued his interest.

"They were in love," she explained, her voice quiet.

It gave him pause, but he was skeptical. "And how, exactly, do you know that?"

She looked at him for a long moment, before ducking her head to glance down at her hands, laced together before her. "I could just tell." She fingered the delicate jewelry on her wrist, before speaking again. "The woman's Craft only became extremely life-threatening when she realized her partner was in danger....I wonder if she had really meant to hurt us, had we not harmed him first."

He could tell it had bothered her, the fact that the two Hunters had cared about one another so much; and in his compassion for her feelings, he decided to switch the subject, allowing them to carry on with their dinner in peace.

During the night, though, her words as well as her discomfort weighed heavily on his mind.

---

The next day found Amon on his own in his suite by the early afternoon, as the Hunt in Arcidosso had commenced. Robin had visited him briefly in the morning, inquiring about his sleep and bringing him fresh clothes to dress in, as well as coffee and breakfast; then she had been off, for another briefing with the Coven. Seth was preparing them in advance for the subsequent Hunt, which was scheduled to take place the following day. It seemed Seth was making certain that Robin was intimately involved in each one of what Amon considered were the Coven's more questionable activities, drawing her further and further in to their stead, meeting by meeting...Hunt by Hunt. And with his injuries, there was no way he was going to be able to judge if Seth was trying to manipulate her or her powers in any way. 

His feelings of doubt settled into a nagging core in his gut, as he tried unsuccessfully to ignore the insistent sense of negativity burgeoning in his head.

_She's slipping away from you._

He opted to distract himself by opening his laptop, which Robin had generously brought to him earlier and plugged in for him to use at the bed. Upon rebooting it up and opening his email, he found Nagira's response to his earlier message sent that morning.

**Otouto,  
I thought I taught you better than this. Getting yourself injured like that---what the hell's the matter with you? You're going to let her run off and play all day with that Seth guy? Somebody has to look out for her, and it sure as hell shouldn't be some greasy-smooth Italian bastard who's probably just waiting for a chance to get her alone, so he can introduce her to his _rigatoni_---**

Amon rolled his eyes in annoyance and continued reading. Nagira was so exasperating sometimes.

**...you know how those slick European guys are, eh? Well, fortunately for you, we know she's a nice girl and still has enough of the convent in her. But, still.....pretty fucking stupid, Otouto.  
I looked more into those two you mentioned, the Italian guy and the French broad. Little tidbit that might interest you...or not....but I thought you might like to know that they were married to each other. It wasn't sanctioned by the organization, or the Church; it was in secret. Anyway, they were pretty highly ranked among the hunter-type people, from what I could find out, so I thought the fact they'd gone and done something behind the organization's back was kind of intriguing. Don't you think?  
More on this later. Gotta run; Yuri-chan and I are going shopping and she's planning on _modeling_ some stuff for me, if you catch my meaning. Then again, you probably didn't want to know that about your former co-worker. Heh heh.  
_Ja mata._  
Nii-san.**

The remainder of his half-brother's email aside, Amon had found it indeed interesting that Marcello Assante and Elsa Darveau had disobeyed SOLOMON, even in such a seemingly trivial matter as love and marriage.

_Not so trivial,_ his conscience reminded him, _but of course you'd never willingly admit that...especially to yourself._

Inherent in his understanding, after growing up under the all-encompassing umbrella of SOLOMON's training, was that personal relationships---particularly between a Hunter and another Hunter---were discouraged, and even made punishable. Witches and Hunters were generally solitary people by nature; even those who were Seeds and knew of their identities as such usually shunned intimate relationships with others. It seemed the only sensible behavior, when issues such as trust and liability were on the line...however, Amon wondered if it was really such a conscious choice on the part of the Hunters and Craft-users, and not _forced_ on them by the nature of the organization.

After all, it would certainly be easier to control Hunters, both Craft-wise and psychologically, if they felt alone and abandoned. Fear, he knew, was a powerful motivator.

Obviously, the desire to control the breeding of Seeds was one thing. The fewer Witches that were born, the safer SOLOMON deemed the world. But was there another reason for their policy regarding relationships between Hunters? It was not as easy to believe that it would not be acceptable for two high-ranking Hunters, people who had been loyal for so many years to the organization and having served SOLOMON by capturing or killing thousands of Witches, to find solace in each other. Was there something else that obligated such severe rules?

More than that, Amon wondered if the Hunters' marriage had been discovered by SOLOMON, and if perhaps they had cast them out onto the fringes of the organization, driven them out of the flock, to fall prey to Seth and his Coven. If Nagira had managed to drum up the information, surely the organization had found it out as well; they had spies and moles of their own, of which Robin had been one herself. The control and influence they exercised was far-reaching, he knew....

More than he liked to remember.

He recalled his mother's lovelorn face, gazing out of the window of their home as she pined for the father he'd never known. He had been aware of her sadness even at such a tender young age, having been highly tuned to her emotions. He'd even remembered that she'd taken her maiden name, reluctantly, in order to protect her husband who was on the run; the less SOLOMON knew about his weaknesses, the better.

Not that it had mattered, in the end. She had become a Witch for him, his father....despite the fact that he had never come back, had never returned to claim his wife and son. She had still believed in him the entire time...and for that she had awakened, tempted and corrupted by the power that lay dormant within her....

He shook his head, attempting to clear it. His memories of Matoko were coming to him more frequently than before, despite the fact that he was trying harder than ever to suppress them; undoubtedly, it was because of the recurrent mention of her in Benedetto's experiments.

That had to be what it was.

---

The dark Jaguar raced along the freeway towards Grosseto. Seth was at the wheel, a faint frown darkening his blond features; Robin sat passively in the front passenger seat, staring at her hands. Gal was following closely behind them in his own vehicle. 

The Hunt had not turned out as planned; in fact, it had nearly become a deadly disaster for all Hunters involved.

Armand Zulueta, the SOLOMON agent they'd been ordered to kill, had possessed a Craft that none of them had been prepared to fight against. Seth hadn't been completely accurate, Robin reflected, in his description of the SOLOMON Hunter's powers; Zulueta hadn't simply had the ability to shift himself physically in and out of solid state, he was also able to disrupt electrical impulses, severely limiting the efficacy of Seth's Craft. Gal's powers, that of water control, were similarly useless against the Hunter.

Robin mentally revisited the fight that had taken place in a forest area near Arcidosso. With dismay, she recalled stepping forward to engage the Hunter, her hands buried deep in her trench coat pockets, her green eyes lit with fire---

_---only to see her flame completely miss the target, instead lighting a nearby woodpile. _

_Seth and Gal turned to her in surprise. Seth, particularly, looked stunned by her misfire. "Tesoro?" he'd asked, concerned. _

_She had gathered her wits, her own confusion having registered in her delicate features, before attempting to throw her flame again; this time, several trees near the Hunter caught aflame, allowing him to escape further into the forest. Several also caught fire near Gal, who shrieked as he jumped from the sparks that leapt out at him. _

_Seth was not pleased. "Robin," he said sternly, "your glasses. Use them." _

_As they chased their prey without further hesitation, she took the half-moon spectacles from her pocket and perched them above her nose, willing her flame forth from behind the glasses. Even so, she was unable to touch Zulueta, who had taken advantage of the inability and confusion of the Hunters attacking him to make his own move. _

_The resulting attack was quick and dangerous. Zulueta rushed at Gal, moving faster than anyone thought possible, dodging the African man's water Craft effortlessly as he phased his body out of solid state and allowing the forceful jets of water to stream _right through him._ Gal swung at the nearby Hunter with his fists, attempting a physical blow; but the Spaniard's body again shifted out of phase, Gal's hands flying haphazardly in thin air. _

_"Tesoro!" Seth cried, alarmed, as Zulueta had solidified himself long enough to grasp Gal by the throat. Sensing Seth's panic, Robin tried again to destroy the Hunter; yet, even with her glasses, she was unable to aim it correctly. _

Why?_ she agonized to herself, before finally managing to disrupt Zulueta's activity with a burst of fire. He let go of Gal, who had sputtered and choked on the ground, and made for Robin. _

Why can I not incinerate him as I have the others so easily?

_It was only as he came at her, his dark eyes lit with fury and his body phasing in and out of solidity as he dodged the lightning bolts of Seth's Craft, that she was able to destroy him...by inadvertently torching the entire grove of trees surrounding them. Armand Zulueta screamed as his body burned, the landscape around him enveloped in flames. _

_Gal had gotten to his feet and was using his water Craft to douse the raging inferno, as Seth, breathing heavily from exertion, had approached Robin. She was able to see the disappointment in his ice-blue eyes from where she stood, and she looked back once more, sorrowfully, at the charred remains of the Hunter on the forest floor...._

Seth broke into her reverie as they continued towards Grosseto in his car. "What are you thinking about, _tesoro?_" he asked her, his voice gentle above the quiet purr of the Jaguar's engine.

Robin shook her head slowly. "_Niente,_" she responded.

The blond man chuckled, his features relaxing into a smirk as he stared at the road ahead of them. "I doubt that somehow. You were reflecting on the Hunt, _sì?_" he asked her.

A pause. "_Sì,_" she answered softly, finally looking up at him in the driver's seat beside her. "I was unable to aim my Craft correctly today." She lowered her eyes in uncomfortable thought. "Even with my glasses....it was as though my will was not strong enough....as though something held me back."

"That doesn't make much sense, _tesoro,_" Seth reasoned, as though to comfort her; even so, the troubled expression on his face belied his casually spoken words. Just as quickly, his features relaxed again, his voice still calm. "At any rate, it was just once that this happened, Robin....everyone is allowed a mistake or two. _Sì?_" He bestowed a benevolent smile upon her before turning back to the road. "It won't happen again, I'm sure of it."

Robin ducked her head penitently. She appreciated the restraint in his temper that he displayed, as well as his understanding. "_Grazie,_ Seth."

As she turned her countenance to face the front of the vehicle, she did not see him level an ice-blue gaze at her from the corner of his eye.

---

A soft knock later that evening, and Amon looked up, his dark gray eyes questioning. 

"_Avanti,_" he said softly.

She entered, again bearing food; her chestnut locks down around her shoulders in preparation for her nightly bath. It was another ritual both of them were quickly becoming familiar with; she cared for his needs without request and without complaint, as he accepted her generosity without brooding...at least reserving it for when she was no longer in his presence.

Robin set his plate before him; he barely looked at his food. Instead, his eyes were focused on her, as she unobtrusively set her own plate before her on the small endtable at his bedside, arranging a chair so that she could sit beside him as she ate.

He was anything but unobservant. "_Doushita?_" he asked her, and when she looked up at him, he went on. "What happened on the Hunt today?"

Hesitantly she described the afternoon's activity to him, giving him adequate details about the Hunter and his particular Craft, the motions of the fight. She paused when she came to the description of her direct contact with the Hunter, glossing over the moments the Hunt hadn't gone exactly as planned. Amon nodded thoughtfully as she spoke; his eyes appeared far away, though she knew he hadn't missed a word.

She attempted a blatant change in conversation as they had begun eating. "Did Hedya bring your lunch to you as I asked her to, this afternoon?" she asked quietly.

He nodded as he chewed his food, waving it off as unimportant; looking carefully at her while she ate, he swallowed before speaking his subsequent thoughts. "Nagira verified the names of the agents we Hunted yesterday...they checked out as being legitimately employed by SOLOMON. But there was something else he found interesting. You were right," he told her, his voice quieting as he fixed his gaze on her. "They were married."

Robin's eyes widened for an instant, then lowered in sadness and regret. "_Sou ka,_" she said, softly. She looked back up after a moment into the dark gray depths that were still fixed on her, and saw the somberness there. He'd read her emotions like a book.

"You shouldn't regret it." His voice was gentle, not in the least scolding. "Elsa would have killed you, eventually. You should never hesitate to defend yourself, Robin." A sudden image came to him; Robin, closing her eyes and tilting her young head back to expose her delicate white chin, as he trained his orbo gun on her heart.

It was not a memory he enjoyed recalling.

"But she was protecting him," she whispered, frowning into her lap. The new knowledge of Marcello and Elsa disturbed her, even after everything had been done...she knew exactly why, but was unable to articulate her reasons to Amon.

"They were attacking us with full force," he reminded her. When she did not look back up at him, his voice turned stern. "_Robin_."

She raised her head and allowed her mournful green gaze to meet with his.

"Don't doubt your instincts. Protect yourself....at all costs." His voice was strangely quiet and firm, and as she looked at him, his eyes seemed to convey an understanding. She felt herself relaxing under the certainty of his trust in her.

They continued eating for a few moments in silence, until Amon reached for the papers lying next to him. "I was looking through more of Benedetto's writing," he said. "And I found this. It appears frequently throughout his entries; there's several references to it, but it's in another language that I don't understand; not Italian or English. Have you ever seen this symbol before?" He held the drawing out so that she could view it.

Robin leaned in and peered at it closely. It was a drawing of a snake; but instead of a lengthened body slithering in the grass, it was curled upon itself with its tail in its mouth, forming a serpentine circle. The drawing was ornately detailed, with fine markings and artistry; but that was not what had caught her attention. She felt the blood draining from her face.

The serpent, eating its own tail. Temptation, and evil.

_Satan._

Amon was watching her with focused intensity. He saw her pale and swallow, and before she could meet his eyes again, he was anxiously leaning forward.

"You've seen it," he affirmed, his interest piqued. "You know what it is."

She could not lie, even though she knew he would not like the answer. "I am familiar with it, _si_."

He saw the look in her eyes, and it made him suddenly hesitant. "_Nani?_" he asked, more quietly.

The sinking feeling in her heart told her it was no longer a coincidence, these signs she was seeing now. She had hid the references of the horned beast, the visions of the ram she'd seen, from him; but she could not hide everything. This was no obscure reference to a "Devil's Child", as she'd uncovered in Toudou's video testimony, attempting to expose the secrets of her own origins---this was a real, _true_, link to the time-tested indoctrination that she had grown up with. It couldn't be ignored; it was time to come to terms with the knowledge laid bare before them.

She willed herself to answer him honestly. "It is the symbol...of the Devil, himself."

---

The remainder of their shared dinner in Amon's suite had been excruciatingly uncomfortable. His reaction to her words, after hearing that the symbol was Satanic, had been completely silent and sullen. She couldn't discern whether his response was rooted in discomfiture, or irritation. 

She hugged her arms as she stood now in her own suite, downstairs from his; she could hear him walking unsteadily around his room through her ceiling, which was his floor. He was able to get up, but still not healed yet enough to participate in the Hunts that had been scheduled for the subsequent days.

_Amon is not like you,_ she reminded herself, in a somewhat chastising manner. _He does not believe in Heaven, or Hell. He does not even believe that the Devil exists---he probably thinks such belief is foolhardy. You should not have told him where you'd seen it._

But another part of her was insistent, the part of her that had been programmed since she was a child...._you must uncover the truth....if Amon is in any way linked to _il demonio_, you must know...because, if he is...._ She raised her eyes slowly to the ceiling. _....If he is...._

She shook her head, in an attempt to clear it. Reluctantly, she sighed, and went about preparing her bath.

An hour later, she lay curled underneath the soft coverlet of her canopied bed, naked; her thoughts still in turmoil over the day's events and what he had uncovered in Benedetto's journal. The soak in the hot bath had not eased her mind as she had hoped it would. She lay awake, framed by the moonlight through her window, mournfully contemplating her half-moon glasses that sat across the room on top of the rustic dresser.

_Akuma no ko._ The gasps of the dying SOLOMON researcher whom STN-J had tried to save, months ago, came to her.

_If he is..._she thought, finishing her thought from earlier_....then perhaps I _have_ been doing the Devil's work after all...._

__

_---_

__

Two more days passed, in much the same manner. 

Robin accompanied Seth on both of the subsequent Hunts, assisted by Noa and Gideon. Both times, she felt her power waning when she attempted to subdue the Hunter with her flame; again, she could not control it or aim it correctly. She felt Seth's disapproval radiate from him each time; she knew he was not pleased with her recent inability to focus.

She came to Amon's room the third night, as she had been doing every night since his injury. That afternoon, she and a few of the Coven members had slain a Hunter whose Craft had been something akin to life-draining, reminiscent to Robin of the Witch Kazuma they'd hunted after she had just started at the STN-J. The Hunter had managed to grab hold of Gideon long enough to physically drain him sufficiently, before Robin and Seth's combined attacks had distracted him. It was Seth who had finally disposed of the Hunter, after Robin's attempts had failed.

She entered hesitantly after knocking, startled to find Amon with his bandages gone, pacing the room in front of his window. He had been able to get out of bed on his own the past couple of nights, but had still been in pain; now he was pacing about as though the injuries no longer bothered him. She wondered briefly how much of it was actually wounds healed, and how much of what he displayed now was stubborn bravado.

Even so, he still managed to stop her in her tracks. The long-sleeved black shirt he wore was unbuttoned, the ends hanging loosely over the black pants he wore; and despite having folded his arms across his torso, she could see the pale, smooth skin of his chest and stomach, the bruises present a few days ago barely visible. The sight of him standing by the poorly-lit window---darkness looking out upon darkness---sent a momentary ache radiating throughout the core of her body, followed by a brief sense of bewilderment of her own feelings.

He turned and leveled a stern glance in her direction as she stepped into his suite, his dark eyes punishing. "You're late. Where were you?"

"_Gomen,_" she said softly, as she entered. It was true; she'd expected to be back an hour earlier, but some of the Coven had taken a brief trip into Grosseto after the Hunt, to gather supplies and also pick up dinner. Seth had initiated a lengthy discussion with the restaurant's owner, which had held up the entire group.

However, her obvious weariness and disconsolation did not go unnoticed, and his features softened as he saw it. He instantly regretted his abrupt statement from a moment earlier. "_Che cos'hai?_" he asked, concerned. She looked tired and dejected, and he suspected correctly that it had less to do with their conversation two nights past, about the artifact he'd found in Benedetto's journal; and more to do with the Hunts she had participated in the past couple of days.

She sighed, a soft sound, as she placed his plate of food on the bedside endtable. "_Niente,_" she responded, although she knew she sounded less than convincing. She looked back up at him as he approached the bed. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged, watching her closely out of the corner of his eye, sitting back down on the bed across from her as she pulled a chair up beside it. "Better," he answered simply. He allowed her to fuss over his plate as she usually did each night, arranging it and uncovering the entree and soup that accompanied it. An amusing idea flashed through his mind that perhaps he should indulge her by allowing her to feed him; he hurriedly stifled the thought when he envisioned her resorting to going without utensils, as she had with the custard on Tana's Day.

Once she had finished, she took her own plate and raised her fork as if she were to begin eating; when she saw him motionless, watching her, she stopped and looked up at him expectantly.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked quietly. He waited.

She bowed her head, seemingly ashamed. "I didn't want to tell you," she said after a moment's pause, her voice hushed.

Warning bells went off in Amon's head. "Is it something regarding Seth?" His previously calm voice held a trace of anxiety now..._If he....if he even **dared**..._

She looked at him, momentarily confused, shaking her chestnut-blonde head. "_Iie._" She cast her gaze back down at her lap. "But...I have had problems controlling my Craft, as of late. Even with my glasses...I can't seem to focus. It's as if I had never had them....as though I were back in the convent, with Padre Juliano," she whispered, concerned.

He was equally troubled, though his motivations for it were different than hers. "Problems…controlling…?"

"I feel it is weakening," she went on, her voice suddenly remorseful and small. "I don't know whether it is of my own will...but something is wrong, Amon." She pressed her hand against the breast of her pilgrim's smock and looked into his eyes, as he quickly averted his from her hand's path. "I can't explain it, but I feel it. In my heart."

As much as he had experienced a momentary flash of relief that her Craft was not _spinning out of control_, he felt a tremendous wave of guilt. _The only reason you feel reassured is because she feels her powers are weakening...and therefore **you** feel less threatened....less afraid._ The thought settled sickeningly in his gut, even as it prompted another one.

_Do you wish her to be less powerful? Unable to defend herself?_

Ignoring the nagging thoughts for the moment, Amon nodded his own agreement to her unease; apart from the effects on her Craft, the Hunts had bothered him also, particularly the last one he had been on. He'd blinded himself by the desire for revenge against the organization that had used him---and others---as a mere instrument; but he realized now, with a firm resolve, that the revenge could wait.

It was less important to him than she was.

He regarded her calmly. "We don't have to stay here, Robin," he reminded her. "We can leave. We can go back to Sovana."

Her eyes were briefly alight with hope, but it was fleeting; pragmatism won. "We'll be on our own once more, against the Hunters...Jana will be in danger." When he didn't respond, she whispered solemnly, "We can't do that to her."

"Then we'll leave Italy," he countered aggressively. There was absolutely no reason why they hadn't done that at the first sign of danger, he rationalized; but again, she was shaking her head.

"Juliano sent us here," she responded. "Surely there was some reason, some purpose, for him to do so." He did his best to stifle his frustration as she went on. "I don't believe it would be wise to leave _Italia_...not until we know why he guided us here."

Amon scowled, folding his arms across his unbuttoned shirt again. He leveled a mildly irritated glance in her direction, delivering his words slowly. "I'm not so sure anymore if we should _trust_ Juliano."

She ducked her head. She had a troublesome suspicion that what Amon said held merit, but it was not something on which she wanted to reflect. "There are so few we _can_ trust." The growing silence stretched out between them for a moment.

He watched her as she wrestled with some inner turmoil, trying to come to a decision about something...he hated seeing her this way, he realized. Taking the burden all on her own shoulders, when she knew all along that he was there, to shoulder it along with her....

"Tomorrow," he began abruptly, "we are going back to Sovana." He held up a hand as she looked up, alarmed, mouth open in protest. "Not to stay permanently...to visit. It has been a week since we've left Jana's; it would be good to go back and see her, even if it's just for the day, _sì?_"

Although his voice was low and neutral, he allowed himself a small, negligible smile at the end of his words; and as he observed her reaction---the luxuriously slow illumination of her face, like a blooming flower---he knew he had done the right thing.

Her eyes were smiling at him. "_Sì,_" she said, softly.

---

They skipped out on the morning patio breakfast---despite the fact that Amon was finally healed enough to actually make an appearance with the other Coven members---and headed to the garage that morning, only to be stopped in their path by Seth and Sela, who were heading outside. 

"_Buon giorno,_" Seth said with interest, as the ice-blue eyes flicked from Robin to Amon, and back again. "You're feeling better, I see, Amon?" He looked at Robin again. "_Dove vai andando?_"

"Errands," Amon spoke curtly, and left it at that.

"Since there were no Hunts planned for today, we decided to go out for a while," Robin explained gently, and she saw Sela's eyes full of knowing and mischief. "We will return later this afternoon, _se necessario_."

But Seth waved her comment off, good-naturedly. "Don't worry, _tesoro_. Take your time. You deserve some time off, _sì?_" He smiled, benevolent. "Enjoy yourselves."

"_Grazie,_" Amon said, in a rare display of courtesy as he guided Robin towards the garage with his hand against her back. They disappeared, Seth and Sela looking on after them. The brunette Witch smiled to herself mysteriously.

After they had pulled the BMW out of the castle's garage and sped out onto the dirt path leading down the hill from the _castello_, Amon stopped at the end of the road, just before the main street began. Throwing the car quickly into reverse, he maneuvered them backwards into a side path, hidden behind the trees, and put it into park. He killed the ignition and sat back slightly in the comfortable leather of the seat.

Robin looked over at her partner questioningly, wondering why they had stopped; but she was hesitant to ask upon seeing the wary determination on his face. After another moment, she finally realized what he was doing.

When ten minutes had gone by in silence, without the appearance of another car heading down the dirt path and following them, Amon restarted the BMW and the car roared to life, heading out into Grosseto.

---

It was not until they had made it out of Grosseto, and were headed on the lonely country road that led back towards the Sovanan township, that both Amon and Robin began to relax. The expansive green land opened up before them, as the towns became smaller and the architecture older. Robin gazed happily out the passenger-side windows as the orchards and vineyards rushed by, her upturned face reflecting the late morning sunlight. Amon, too, felt his mood lightening....his shoulders felt as though they were less burdened. It was as if merely entering the area surrounding Sovana lent them both comfort. 

He pulled the car off of the main road, veering as if by instinct towards the _via de Mezzo_. The road sloped gently upwards, and at the crest of it was the stone arch, the entrance into the downtown Sovanan village. Robin propped her chin on her hands against the windowpane, watching the stone monument as they passed. She saw one of the villagers passing beneath the arch, headed out into the _via_, and she recognized the woman as being the mother of Lucia, the child whose fever she had cured weeks ago. Robin waved excitedly through the shadowed window of the car, but the woman did not see her.

"The glass is tinted," Amon reminded her gently; but seeing her half-smile despite the unreciprocated wave, he saw that nothing could curb her enthusiasm. He smirked to himself faintly as he continued driving.

They arrived at Jana's farmhouse a short distance later, having reached the end of the downward slope of the hill, and Amon pulled the car into the dirt and gravelled driveway. Before he had turned off the motor, Robin was hopping out of the front passenger seat, closing the door carefully behind her before sprinting for the front of the house. His eyes followed her to the front porch, where Jana had already swung the door wide open, a priceless look of happiness---mixed with knowing---on her lovely, weathered face.

"_Nonna!_" Robin's steps were quick and light, as she bounded up the porch stones and hurtled herself into her grandmother's waiting arms.

Jana was laughing. "I _knew_ you come today," she told the young Witch, clutching her tightly in her embrace, surrounded by the long, loose flame of chestnut hair. "Somehow, I knew." She pulled Robin's head back from the shelter of her neck, cupping the girl's face in her hands, and smoothing the locks away. "_Mi bambina,_" she whispered affectionately. The undisguised joy she saw in Robin's eyes caused her to take the girl into a fierce hug once more.

Amon approached the steps to the porch slowly, his dark jacket billowing around him, hesitating to interrupt the reunion before him. Jana regarded him over her granddaughter's shoulder, her dark green eyes shining.

She nodded to him with a smile.

---

Once inside, Amon and Robin could smell the delicious meal that had been unknowingly prepared on their behalf for lunch. Robin translated the name of it, which seemed too complex for him to decipher, even with his increased knowledge of Italian; _scallopine di vitello con carciofi_, veal scallopine with artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes. They sat down at Jana's insistence, despite the fact that it was still relatively early---but Jana tolerated no argument. The meal was balanced with a lovely Chianti, and they sat and began to converse as they ate. Robin sat opposite from Amon next to her grandmother, occasionally holding onto the older woman's hand, as though she could not bear to be any farther away. 

Jana was interested in Robin's description of the _castello_, but particularly of the Coven and its charismatic leader. "What kind of business he run, this 'Seth'?" she asked, between sips of Chianti.

"Hunting," Amon offered, and shook his head when the older woman's eyes grew wide. "Not Witches. He claims to be a member of an organization that counters SOLOMON's actions."

"Hard to believe such organization exists," Jana mused thoughtfully, "isn't it?" Robin looked towards her partner again, who was already prepared to validate the claim.

"I've cross-checked their targets against a reliable source with SOLOMON contacts," Amon offered, fingering his wineglass. "The agents we encountered were all legitimate members of SOLOMON." He looked down at his half-empty glass, conceding, "But, yes...it is hard to believe."

Jana looked sympathetically at him, watching him carefully as he looked for a moment to be deep in thought. "It is hard, to know who to trust, _no?_" she said with softness, and he looked back up at her, questioning.

They chatted for another half-hour, Robin relaying interesting facts about the Coven members to Jana, who varied between listening to her granddaughter intently and glancing at the reticent hunter. Amon seemed to have an unusual preoccupation with his wineglass.

Finally, at a lull in conversation, Jana turned to face him directly. "Have you been reading _il diario_, Amon?" she asked.

Amon visibly stiffened. "_Sì,_" he responded, after a moment's pause.

"And the mention of the person's name you had interest in? Did you confirm it?" she went on, seemingly oblivious to his reaction---although he detected something in her tone of voice to suggest that she was, in fact, very much attuned to it.

He looked up to meet her eyes this time, leveling a stern glance in her direction. "_Sì._"

Robin felt a growing discomfort at the change in subjects, and looked down at her near-empty plate before her. Perhaps she should....

She stood, suddenly, at the table. "Nonna....I would like to go into the _via_ to see Giovanna, if it is all right with you." She glanced at Amon, who had looked up with surprise at her gesture.

"_Certo, bambina,_" Jana replied gently, smiling. "Come back soon, I'll have _il dolce_ ready....cream torte with walnut torrone." She nodded to the young girl.

"_Lo farò,_" Robin responded, and pushing her chair in at the table, headed unobtrusively to the front door.

The dark gray eyes followed her as she went, and Jana could see the concern in them as clear as day. Concern....wariness....doubt....and guilt---a cacophony of negative emotions, displayed in a single, mournful look. _He has not told her yet....he has not embraced her,_ Jana realized. Her posture tensed.

_Soon, he will run out of time._

Amon turned his face away from where Robin had disappeared, back to face the older woman. He looked mildly surprised that she was eyeing him so closely, as though she were coming to some answer that she had been asking herself since he and Robin had stepped inside her home.

"_Ecco perche_, Amon," she said with calculation, as his dark eyes narrowed, "you have come to see me."

---

Robin gladly headed up the hill towards the entrance of the _via de Mezzo_, her spirits light with the hope of meeting Giovanna and the other villagers. The summer air was warm on her face, the sun bright above her; it was a beautiful day to be outside, anyhow. She knew she would have more time to talk with Jana later, and she was hopeful that Amon would speak with her grandmother at length. Perhaps, even though he was loath to discuss certain things about the specifics of the journal with her---particularly concerning his mother---he could discuss them with Jana. 

_Maybe, also,_ she thought, _I can speak to Giovanna about what _I_ have seen._

It wasn't long before she came upon Gennaro's fruit stand, not far after the stone arch entrance into the village; and upon seeing her, he laughed, running out from behind his vendor's cart to greet her in a warm hug.

"_Signorina,_" he gushed happily, holding her back from his embrace to look at her. "We have missed you. What brings you here?"

"I am just here to visit," she replied, smiling warmly up at him, and gave a short gasp of surprise when he shoved four ripe figs into her hands.

"_Omaggio,_" he winked, grinning, and chortled at her response. He stepped back as several more townspeople had begun to approach, recognizing the _pellegrina_ and coming up to her to embrace her and welcome her---but in the multitude, Robin caught sight of a lone woman, frail in appearance, a dark shawl covering her snow-white hair.

The young Witch's face lit up in recognition. "Giovanna," Robin breathed happily.

"_Bentornata,_ Pellegrina," the old woman said, with a smile.

---

Jana poured coffee, calmly and patiently, for Amon at the table. "So. Tell me what it is, that you wish to ask." 

In spite of the fact that she'd effectively put him on the spot, Amon appreciated her straightforward approach. He countered with his own move, launching right into it.

"Juliano," he said, watching her carefully. "How can we know he is trustworthy?"

Jana blinked, startled, but her face calmly relaxed into a smile again. She gave a small chuckle. "That one, I did not expect you to ask," she admitted, seating herself across from him at the table once again. "But, as far as Juliano goes...I believe his actions speak for themselves."

Amon lifted his eyebrows in moderate surprise at her response, his arms folded across his chest. "He ordered me to Hunt Robin. Are you referring to that particular action?"

Jana's dark green eyes grew serious at his veiled threatening tone, and she bowed her head briefly in affirmation. "That, he did. I recall, he ordered several Hunters after her....at least three. You were the last." Amon nodded to her statement.

"Juliano, in his lifetime, has been a man of strong morals," she went on. "Occasionally, he has acted cowardly....but nevertheless, he always acted on what he thought was right, in the eyes of both Man and God." She regarded him with a knowing look. "You know why he sent _you_ after her, don't you? He knew you would not kill her."

Amon looked up again, his gray eyes alert. _He couldn't have known that._ "What are you saying?"

Robin's words to him from their long-ago confession entered his mind. _Juliano knew of your background._

"You're forgetting that he changed his mind again....he rescinded order to Hunt Robin, even before the collapse of Factory in Japan," Jana told him.

"You have, over the years, kept in very close contact with him, then." Amon made his voice deliberately observational.

The older woman smiled, bittersweet, and bowed her eyes from his view. "Not that close....at least, not as close as I would have liked." She looked up at him again. "But the ties that bind you to the ones you love can never truly be severed...._sì?_" Amon was quiet, as she went on. "Such as those between you and _sua madre_."

Amon's head snapped up at her last words. "How did you---"

"Why don't you tell me about her?" Jana asked, rising to fetch the stove coffeepot as the dark hunter at the table stared, gawking slightly at her retreating form.

---

"I don't know how to describe it," Robin was saying to Giovanna, as they made their way amongst the throng of people in downtown Sovana, the townsfolk having resumed their daily activities around them. People milled in and out of vendor shops; energetic youngsters chased each other, running past the young girl and the old woman as they strolled casually through the street. "I have a very negative feeling, as though something is restraining me...causing me to doubt myself, and my powers. But I cannot pinpoint what it is." 

Giovanna clutched her arm affectionately as they walked. "These Hunts bother you, _Pellegrina_...and for good reason, _sì?_" she asked. "Is not easy to Hunt, anymore...regardless of whether you attack Witch, or Hunter....it is still attack, not defense."

"Amon does not seem to think so," Robin noted softly, ducking her head as she walked.

"And you think he has good reason?" Giovanna asked pertinently, her wizened brown eyes glinting in the sun.

"_Non lo so._" She sighed heavily. "Perhaps he does." The young Witch seemed so lost, misplaced....Giovanna's heart was pained at the sight of her unease.

But underneath, she detected something else.

"_Pellegrina,_" she said with gentleness, "something trouble you about _il cacciatore?_"

Robin's eyes widened in surprise at not only the phrase---which she had not heard used to describe Amon in over a week's time---but also in the old woman's acumen. Hesitantly she answered, "_Un po'._" At Giovanna's patient look, she continued.

"I have seen some strange things associated with him....images that I am familiar with, but that worry me," she said, her voice low and confidential.

"Such as?" Giovanna pressed.

"A horned ram," Robin confessed. "And a snake, coiled upon itself, eating its own tail." She shuddered slightly, the images too clear in her mind to dismiss them. "_Il Demonio,_" she whispered.

To her surprise, Giovanna began to smile slowly. "Not everything as obvious on the outside, _Pellegrina,_" she said, simply. Robin looked at her in confusion, but was silent as they continued to walk. "The snake, long ago, held as potent symbol of energy, of transformation. Because it sheds its skin---rejuvenates itself---it associated with new life, spontaneous creation...." She glanced back up at the chestnut-haired girl beside her. "Immortality."

Unrevealed to the young girl, the old woman's thoughts blossomed into a joyous refrain. Her heart leapt, even as her aged body protested weakly against the excitement, the thrumming of her blood pounding so that she could almost hear it in her ears.

_It is a sign. He is coming._

__

_---_

__

"She awoke for your father, you believe," Jana asserted, her hands folded underneath her chin, looking at Amon in interest as he had finished describing the details of that fateful day to her. 

"She wanted to be with him, to become a Witch for him," he ground out, clenching his fist on the table before him in obvious frustration. He didn't understand how he was able to discuss what had happened to Matoko with Jana, having known her for such a short time...but he felt the floodgates opened, and his words now poured forth as though they could not stop.

"It was her hunger for power like his that led to her corruption....her power was born from that..." His voice, firm in anger, became an anguished whisper. "It was why they did that....to her."

_Blood...the blood had been everywhere...._ He forcibly suppressed the memory.

"You are so sure she was corrupted by it?" Jana asked. "You were so young, Amon. To witness such a terrible thing...it made such an impact on you. But there is so much not obvious to the eye....you could have missed something." He sat silently, as if he were refusing to debate her words.

"As you are missing something right now. Her powers are weakening," Jana stated, deadpan as she instantly switched topics. "And you are not as concerned about it _as you should be._"

Now he looked at her, and she could see the naked fury---as well as surprise---in his eyes at her insinuation, brimming in the dark silver depths. The evidence of his anger mildly reassured her.

"We will speak no more of it," Jana said, shaking her head gently in an attempt to calm him. She regarded him then again after a moment, carefully. "But when you wish to know more, Amon....you must come back here, again. There will be something---many things---you will need to know." She paused as she looked out the front window, seeing Robin coming up the steps towards the front of the house.

"Come back when you are ready to confront them." She went to the door, a brilliant smile re-lighting her face as she embraced her granddaughter again.

Her words rang in his ears, later that afternoon, as they sped back to Grosseto.

---

As they entered the castle, they were once again accosted by Seth and Sela; this time, the two were accompanied by several other Coven members, all looking as though they were heading out. 

Robin's heart sank. _Another Hunt._

"Ah, Amon! Robin..._tesoro..._" Seth crooned happily, "excellent timing. We are headed out for an evening of enjoyment. Come---join us."

"_Dove?_" Robin asked, and Sela spoke up beside her companion.

"We are going to the Water Spas in Chianciano," she said, bubbling with enthusiasm. "You must go! It's an exhilarating experience, to say the least." She grinned, looking from Amon to the young chestnut-haired Witch, and winking at Robin playfully.

It appealed to Robin in the most basic sense, as she loved baths, and she looked up at Amon almost anxiously. He debated for nearly a moment before realizing that he really had no choice in the matter, but to capitulate to the pleading, luminous green eyes before him.

They took few cars between them---Amon and Robin accompanying Seth and Sela in the Jaguar---and headed out into the direction of Chianciano.

---

Chianciano was a small town roughly in the area of Siena, a good hour's drive from Grosseto; by the time they reached the Spa, it was late in the afternoon and dusk was quickly approaching. 

The entrance of the Spa facility was ornate with statues and relics from Etruscan times. The patron of the Spa, an older woman appearing to be in her early forties, led them on a brief tour of the facility before their appointments.

"Numerous legends concerning both the waters of Chianciano and the origin of the town itself have been passed down through the ages since the time of the early Etruscans," she said, guiding the group along a passageway replete with works of art and stone and bronze statues. "In the early days, Etruria---modern-day Tuscany---was a medicinal center, the medicines and remedies specifically coming from the waters of Chianciano. Here, we have a statue of Apollo, with Diana Sillene; this is a relic from the 7th century BC," she said, pointing to a beautiful bronze sculpture of the scantily-clothed figures. The rest of the Coven passed by it almost obliviously; both Amon and Robin paused momentarily to gaze at it before moving on.

"The three waters which you will be experiencing tonight are as follows: Acqua Santa is a warm mud bath, its minerals being high in bicarbonate, sulphate, and calcium, purifying the body's organs as it warms at a temperature of 33C. Acqua Fucoli is a cold spring water---16.5C---and is drank, 400-800 grams, to aid digestion and serve as a natural diuretic. Acqua Sillene---named for Diana herself---is a hot bath, drawn at 38.5C; a therapeutic and invigorating water bath to reactivate the circulation and purify one's overall well-being."

Each guest was given a brand-new bathing suit, towel, and sandals, and given instructions on appointment schedules. Amon glanced nervously about, having realized Robin had moved on to another area of the spa under his radar; but he was shooed by Seth off to an area designated for mudbaths.

It was going to be an interesting evening.

---

Robin was face-down on a long cushioned massage bench, a long white towel draped over her from lower back to upper thigh, resting her cheek on her hands. A female masseuse kneaded her back muscles firmly and rhythmically; and the young Witch, having loved all her life to be touched, but had it mostly denied her, was nearly drowning in the ecstasy of the tactile sensations. 

Sela turned her head to regard her, resting her face on her hands, much like Robin. "_Bene, sì?_" she asked, grinning. Robin could only manage a blissful nod. "This is a special treat, for us," Sela went on, her voice dreamy as the masseuse worked on her shoulders. "Seth usually doesn't like to spend money too frivolously....so the fact that he did this for us means he really cares about our well-being, even if he _does_ make us Hunt so much."

Robin nodded, but something in her eyes had caught the older girl's attention. "What is it, Robin?" Sela asked softly, encouraging. "You've looked for a couple of days now as if something disturbs you."

Reluctantly, the chestnut-haired girl debated how much information to share. "The two Hunters we killed three days ago....Marcello, and Elsa," she said in a quiet tone. "Something bothered me about the two of them."

"What?"

Robin shifted on the massage bench. "I believe they were in love with each other," she whispered. She saw Sela's eyes widen slightly at her words.

"You think so?" Sela asked, curiously.

"_Sì,_" Robin responded. "I could tell by their mannerisms....and behavior. Elsa only really became violent and lethal when Marcello was in danger." Her eyes became far away. "It bothers me....perhaps because it is hard for me to imagine them as killers, and Hunters, when they are both Witches who love each other."

Sela's eyes underwent a change as Robin spoke, the dark brown eyes softening with something that resembled sadness. Just as quickly, the hurt was disguised.

"I suppose it takes someone who is already _in love_, to recognize the signs of it in other people, _sì?_" Sela asked her, her smile becoming playful once again as she saw Robin's face duck back into the massage bench, shyly.

Sela's own gaze was wistful as she regarded the young Witch...and a plan began to take shape behind the coffee-colored eyes.

---

An hour later, Amon, clad in a soft robe, entered a room with a singular large, deep bath---some areas of it requiring stairs made of stone---in the center of it. The water was steaming, it was so hot; and he actually anticipated getting into it. It looked extremely inviting. 

It was only after he'd immersed himself in the water, inch by soothing inch, wearing the snug-fitting but comfortable swim trunks given to him by the Spa, that he leaned back slightly and began to relax in the heat of the water.

He had recently come from the mud bath appointment---very strange, sitting in a tub full of warm mud. It had been somewhat soothing, but something he wasn't sure if he wanted to make a habit of---it seemed to be very _slimy_. A hot water bath was just as soothing, without the grime.

He had just closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the warm tile, immersed up to his shoulders in the hot water---when he felt a tap on his head. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"_Scusi, scusi,_" Sela laughed. "Didn't mean to startle you. I thought you might like some sake?" She was leaning over him, standing beside the bath edge clad in a soft terry-cloth robe, and in her hands she held a small columned sake container, and two small cups. "It's chilled, so it should feel very pleasant with the bath, _sì?_" she asked, placing the container on the ledge where she stood, close to his head, and pouring a cup for him.

_Hiyazake,_ he thought. He picked up the cup, sniffing it briefly, then took a small sip. _Yanca._ It was a good brand, not the best he'd had, but it would do nicely. Probably the best available in an area such as rural Italy, he reasoned to himself.

Sela grinned as she watched him. "Does that mean you approve?"

Amon nodded his head, still stunned by the gesture. "_Grazie,_" he was aware enough to say. He looked back up at her, his dark eyes laced with moderate concern. "_Dovè Robin?_" he asked quietly, before sipping again at the rice wine.

"She's finishing in the mudbaths," Sela reassured him. "Don't worry; I had Noa accompany her to make sure she stayed safe." She crouched down to his head's level, folding her arms against her knees as she saw him nod, vaguely distracted. She cocked her head in a curious pose as she regarded him thoughtfully. "I've never seen anyone so protective of someone, as you are of her," she said, a teasing hint of a smile on her face.

He leaned back again, his head against the tile, and sighed almost silently as the water enveloped his shoulders. "Robin is special," he said. He decided it didn't warrant further explanation.

"Mmm." Sela sounded a singular affirmative. "She is a very unusual girl, that is true." Her smile was back, her eyes narrowing in mirth. "_E tanta bella._"

A pause. "I hadn't noticed." _Getting better at lying to yourself, aren't you?_ he thought sarcastically. _Maybe you should jump in and announce that 'all Witches must be hunted' again while you're at it and see where that gets you._

The brunette Witch nodded dramatically in mock agreement, grinning. "Of course not." She grew somewhat serious as she next asked, "So, tell me, Amon....why _do_ you deny yourself that which you desire most?"

He opened one eye after a pause, and shot her an annoyed glance. "Why do you pry for information that is none of your business?" He had started to feel a bit sleepy from the combination of the bath and the sake, but somehow it was tempering his irritation.

"Are you worried about her age?" Sela went on to ask, lowering her voice into a conspiring whisper. "She is so young---you think that you won't make her happy?"

Amon opened both eyes and leveled a glare in her direction; but when he looked closely at her face, he saw yearning and curiosity...mixed with something that suggested she needed to know his reasons, for her own sense of understanding.

She poured him another cup of sake as he watched her, offering it to him; he took it almost reluctantly, forming his thoughts.

"It's not either of those," he responded quietly, "not completely." He looked down into the water. "It has to do more with....issues of control." While he felt it was acceptable to answer her questions, he wasn't going to explain to her his dilemma with his dormant Craft.

"Control," she said, thoughtfully, before she smirked again. "That word does not apply much to love, _no?_" She nodded, as if to herself. "It is hard to control something that is inherently uncontrollable."

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the ledge again, as if ignoring her words.

She rose to full height and turned as though to leave the bathing area. "At any rate....enjoy yourself, Amon. I'll leave you to your bath, now." Turning back to face the room before she left, she smiled again and disappeared.

His eyes opened as he heard the closing of the door behind her, and he meditated on her words for a moment, reaching again for the sake decanter. Just as he was about to take a sip, the door opened again, this time hesitantly.

Robin came halfway through the door, in a white towel that barely covered her to mid-thigh, and froze at the sight before her. "A-Amon?"

He sat up....making a particular effort not to stare too long at her long, graceful, and very naked legs beneath the white towel. "_Nani?_" he asked shortly, and nearly slapped himself for his stupidity. _Nothing's wrong, _bakayarou_---she just walked in on you in the bath, that's all._ Somehow he instinctively knew that Sela had timed it just right, and played them both into this situation.

"_Gomen,_" Robin was already saying softly, her face taking on a slightly pink hue---he wondered if it was from the warmth of the bathing room, or something else. "I did not know you were using the bath..." She began to retreat back through the doorway, mumbling something about how she would make use of it later.

_Shit._ "_Iie....daijoubu,_" he said, before he had completely registered the thought in his mind. _Are you inviting her to join you?_

She stopped, turning her face towards him, almost unbelievingly.

He made up his mind. It wasn't indecent; she was wearing a bathing suit underneath the towel, as obvious from the shoulder straps visible. "_Daijoubu,_" he said, nodding towards her. "That is, if you don't mind."

The smile that appeared was faltering and hesitant as she stepped into the room. Upon reaching the hot bath, she leaned over the edge and dipped her toe in, testing the temperature. "It's very warm," she observed, half-smiling gently into his eyes as he watched her. She loosened the hairband that had kept her long locks out of the way of the massage and mudbath, and the tresses fell about her shoulders.

"It's actually cooled off a bit," he commented, distracted. The sake he'd drank was buzzing pleasantly through his body, the warmth spreading through his veins....but he suspected his sudden feeling of intoxication had more to do with the young chestnut-haired girl removing the white towel that covered her, revealing an aqua-colored bikini and pale, smooth flesh, like unblemished marble.

She stepped slowly into the heated water, a few feet away from him, and settled down in it up to her neck, sighing softly. Her hair billowed gently around her in the water, and as she closed her eyes, he thought she must have resembled some sort of mythological sea nymph.

_Screw Toudou's theory about Eve of Witches,_ his idle thoughts dictated. _She probably rode the ocean waves in to shore on a giant clam._

They talked quietly, making brief, polite conversation. Amon continued to debate his actions---allowing her to bathe with him---internally against his better judgment.

"....Sela says we will not have to Hunt tomorrow," Robin was telling him, and he snapped to attention, focusing on her words.

"When did she tell you that?" he asked.

"During the massage, earlier," she answered, watching his expression.

"Massage?" _This is quite the royal treatment we're getting tonight,_ he mused silently. He saw Robin nodding enthusiastically, the enigmatic smile returning.

"_Sì,_ it was wonderful," she sighed happily. "Have you ever had a massage before, Amon?" He shook his head. "It felt like...every negative thought, and feeling, was just melting away underneath the person's hands," she related, dreamily. Her emerald eyes were hazy and unfocussed as she spoke. "It felt as though I were being cared for; it felt..."

She opened her eyes again, having leaned her chestnut head back against the ledge of the bath pool, and saw his dark, sake-laden gaze fixed on her. Her courage was bolstered.

"Would you like me to show you? What a massage feels like?" she asked, softly. She ached to touch him, to allow him to experience what she had, even though she knew he would never---

"_Aa._" His affirmative response was pliant, yearning.

She moved to sit up in the bathwater, motioning timidly. "_Avanti._"

He glided through the water with ease, averting his eyes from her stare; she gently turned him around so that his back faced her. He sat at the edge of the stone seat, his body suddenly and inexplicably tense.

He felt her hands, soft and warm, glide like gentle birds across his shoulder blades. "Amon, relax," she breathed quietly near his ear, and the sensation of that alone sent a slight shudder through him.

She moved her hands over his shoulders, centering them at the junction between his neck and collarbone, and massaged the muscles of his back the way she had felt the masseuse do earlier. Her hands moved outwards towards the ends of his shoulders, rubbing gently, and then back to his neck; one of her small hands attempted to massage the sinewy cords at the back of his neck, underneath his damp, dark hair.

Amon bowed his head, his eyes closed, allowing her ministrations to go where they pleased. Her hands were not strong, by any means; but they were steady, her touch simultaneously firm and caressing. When they moved downward from his neck towards his spine, he let loose a long sigh.

It did feel wonderful....not because of the imported sake, or the bath itself; on the contrary, he realized it was solely Robin who was making him feel this way, giving him comfort as she learned his body with her hands. As implausible as it was, the water seemed to grow warmer as she continued to knead his back gently; he could feel the tension seeping from his muscles, in combination with the heat and touch, and he sank back further into the water, unconsciously sliding back against Robin as he did so.

He relaxed his neck as he felt her fingers pressing into his shoulders through the heated water, and it took him a few moments to register that his head had fallen back onto her shoulder. He turned his face towards her, drowsy and inundated with pleasure, and he took in the sweet scent of her breath, hot on his cheek. His eyes closed; his mouth was parted, taking in breath and taste.

She was hesitant. "Amon..." she whispered uncertainly; but her soft voice was cut short by the nearness of his lips, his mouth close to hers. His lips reached for her own, almost teasingly, making one pass over them before drawing back and reaching for another. Her hands stilled on his shoulders. He kissed her again, deeper, and she let a soft moan escape her throat as their mouths parted.

That was the break in his already eroding restraint. His hands came up out of the water, cupping her cheeks on both sides; he turned his body towards her so that he had access to all of her as his mouth found hers again and again, each kiss becoming more demanding and heated. Her arms entwined around his neck, her hands buried in his wet hair; he found himself pressing her back against the ledge of the bath with the momentum of his kiss.

A shrill voice was heard in the room by the doorway. "Oh! I must have entered the wrong room by _mistake!_" The two in the bath broke apart almost immediately, breathless and disheveled, and looked up towards the door to see Hedya in a robe, carrying a magazine. She was smirking at the sight before her, hands on her hips.

Robin's face was a bright red. "_Scusi,_" she mumbled, and before Amon could stop her, she scrambled out of the bath and onto the ledge, hurriedly covering her dripping body with the white towel.

Amon turned back to Hedya at the door; the blonde Witch was still observing the two of them with an amused expression on her face. "I hope I wasn't interrupting," she remarked coyly, to which Amon delivered a melting glare that nearly stopped her in her tracks.

Robin gathered her towel and robe and hurried from the room, past Hedya, who threw her a lively "_Ciao!_".

The blonde woman leisurely made her way over to the water, her eyes never leaving the dark-haired Hunter who was still standing in the middle of the bath, level with his waist. "Mind if I join you?" she inquired innocently.

Amon stepped out of the water gracefully, not bothering to look at her as he grabbed his towel. "It's all yours," he said roughly, and made his way out. Hedya looked on after him, the smirk slowly fading.

---

It was late when they finally returned to the castle, Robin having ridden back in Noa's car with Sela; and upon returning, she had gone directly to her suite. Bast was wandering the hall, waiting outside of her door. She scooped up the cat in her arms, going into her room as she heard other Coven members trudging upstairs to their own suites. 

She stroked Bast's fur, scratching the cat underneath its chin, as her mind was lost in thought. She hadn't meant to kiss him again, to disobey the rule he had set down in Sovana; that affection of that kind would not be expressed again. She wasn't sure which one of them had initiated it this time, but nevertheless she knew he was less than pleased with the outcome.

Despite that...her body still tingled from the experience she'd had an hour ago.

Bast meowed plaintively in her arms, and Robin cuddled the cat gently before leaving her suite and heading upstairs to Amon's.

Once in front of his door, she set Bast down, running her hands over the cat's soft head again. "You are so lucky," she whispered, still petting her. "You can be as close as you'd like to him, and he doesn't mind." She gave a small, sad smile. "I wish I could trade places with you, for a night."

Just then Amon's door opened, and Robin straightened, a flush of embarrassment heating her cheeks as she wondered if he had heard her.

"_Oyasuminasai,_" she said softly, meeting his eyes; he held her gaze for an instant. Bast ran past his ankles into his suite.

"_Oyasumi,_" he responded, his voice quiet. Robin turned to go back to her room, and he shut the door.

---

Amon awoke in the middle of the night, feeling the light movement of the cat on the bed. Occasionally at night she got restless, and would prowl around as though she were guarding him in his sleep; and he reached down near his leg, half-awake, to stroke the soft fur and calm her back into slumber. 

But his hand did not meet fur; on the contrary, he felt the silken strands of human hair running through his fingers.

Amon jumped into full alertness, sitting up on his elbows in bed. Curled up by his leg, where Bast usually slept, was Robin.

_Robin!_

She stretched, languorously, smiling at him; her long chestnut hair spilled over her naked form in the moonlight. Very slowly she began to crawl up the length of his body, as he lay in bed. He was immobile from disbelief---when had she gotten into his room? And what the hell was she doing in his bed, nak---

All rational thought fled as she settled to lay completely over him, their bodies separated by a thin sheet. He looked helplessly into the stark green eyes that hovered above him, as he was inundated by the scent of her skin, her hair, her body.... _This isn't right. It isn't..._

"Robin---" He attempted to say her name, but was stopped by the movement of her mouth against his, her parted lips pressed sweetly against his own, as her hands cradled his face.

_Oh....God...._

He returned her kisses with equal fervor, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting her; and his arms, of their own accord, found their way around her back. Sliding down the smooth lines of her body, his hands cupped the rounded slope of her bottom and pressed her body, through the sheet, up against his. Robin moaned, a soft, anguished sound; and as he opened his eyes to look at her, he could see the same look of surprised passion as he'd seen on her face at the festival, as his teeth and tongue had grazed her fingers...

Amon awoke, thrashing in his bed with the force of it; and subsequently sending Bast flying off the covers with a feline shriek of surprise. He sat up, panting heavily, sweat having broken out on his dark brow....slowly coming to his senses as he realized it was a dream. Bast, from the floor of his room, gave him a disgruntled look and set about cleaning herself with a paw.

He breathed raggedly, as he fell back into his bed. The lines between his dream world and reality were beginning to blur. Had what he'd dreamed about actually occurred? After his obvious lack of restraint at the Spa, and now the vivid dream, it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell exactly what was real and not.

Not only that, but it was now physically impossible to deny the effect she had on him.

His body trembled, causing his teeth to clench; and a single refrain resounded through the narrow focus of his pleasure-riddled mind.

_Robin._

__

* * *

Next chapter:

Hidden conflict....The sublime secret....A lone shot in the darkness. The forbidden encounter restarts the stalled spinning wheel. Chapter 14.

---

Oh my. So much Italian/Japanese:

Grazie al cielo: thank heavens  
ciò nonostante: even so  
tesoro: treasure, darling  
il dottor: the doctor  
signore: mister  
daijoubu: Japanese it's all right  
Aa: Japanese 'yeah', a short affirmative response  
non è giusto: it's not (morally) right  
ti va bene?: are you okay?  
grazie: thank you  
io presto torno: I'll return soon  
è chiaro?: understood?  
doushita: Japanese what's wrong  
nandemonai: Japanese it's nothing  
honto ni: Japanese really?  
nani: Japanese what  
otouto: Japanese younger brother  
ja mata: Japanese see you/talk to you later  
niente: nothing  
avanti: come  
sou ka: Japanese I see, is that so  
il demonio: the demon  
akuma no ko: Japanese Devil's child  
gomen: Japanese sorry  
che cos'hai?: what's wrong?  
niente: nothing  
iie: Japanese no  
Dove vai andando?: where are you going?  
Se necessario: if necessary  
Nonna: grandmother  
Castello: castle  
il diario: the diary (journal)  
certo: of course  
il dolce: the dessert  
Lo farò: I will  
ecco perché: so that is why  
omaggio: free gift  
bentornata: welcome back  
sua madre: your mother  
non lo so: I don't know  
il cacciatore: the hunter  
un po': a little bit  
Dove?: where?  
Bene: good  
sai com'è: you know  
hiyazake: cold sake  
e tanta bella: and very beautiful  
bakayarou: dumbass  
oyasuminasai: good night

* * *

And now we come again to review responses. Yayyyyy! ;;; Once again, this is a very _long_ section....so if you are not at all interested in what I've got to say relative to the reviews I've gotten on the past couple of chapters, please disregard this area. However, I warn you---if you skip it, you might miss something important or interesting, depending on how you view it. o. But, no worries.

On with the Q n' A!

**CrystalBlueSeraph: That was very good. But it kinda made me want to smack some sense to the duo especially Robin on not listening to her intuition that in the anime itself is one of her unnatural capabilities that sets her off as one of the unique witches. Come to think of it, with your creation nonna who has the power of foresight, I could almost conclude that she probably possessed a fraction on the same power.**  
While it's very true that Robin is extremely perceptive in the series; at the same time, she does have motivation for staying with Seth's group even if she feels slightly uncomfortable. She is determined to protect her last living relative besides Juliano---her grandmother Jana---and if it means making some sacrifices on her part, she does it willingly. And I believe I _have_ paid slight tribute to Robin's potential inheritance of Jana's powers....particularly with her precognitive dreams concerning Amon. But this is an important part of her characterization; thank you for bringing it up.

**j.b. Raven: Seth is actually starting to creep me out a bit- is that your intention?**  
Actually, to be brutally honest, it's not.... ;; But it's interesting that people are feeling that way, nevertheless.

**Youkai Yume: Gods, I hate you so much.**  
Haha. I purposefully clipped your review to those few words---which cracked me up. I know you don't _really_ hate me, and I feel the love....I really do. Hey, if I can make you feel hate, that's better than ambivalence. By the way, I understand your fic got deleted?? I can't imagine why, but I hope the rest of it is up soon.

**Waking Dreamer: Anyway-- besides that, I was impressed by the quality of the Italian!**  
Thank you so much! I'm glad I'm getting things right, and I appreciate all your help. _Si_, the cat was female, thus _la gatta bella_; but I shall eliminate the 'de sera' when I next get a chance. _Grazie!_

**infinate entropy: ...And on a side note... If anything having to do with Amon's powers is going to show up. **  
That will indeed be showing up. Very soon. .

**Mikey: Aww, thanks, now I feel really shmart! I'll just pretend like this is a birthday present (seeing as my birthday was a few days ago), **  
Happy late birthday!!  
**..thank you so much for updating. Now I've got nothing special and observant to comment on... hmm, would that hint have to do with when Bast first comes to Jana's, and what Amon thinks about her eyes? **  
Heh heh. (smirk)

**Jen23: ...Yes, I am worried about Seth and I liked the part where he figured out why Amon was no longer a hunter. I bet Amon wishes he didn't open his mouth about the one bedroom accomodations.**  
(laughing!) _Exactly._ I'm glad you noticed that as his eyes were settling on the white four-poster bed...you _know_ he was regretting opening his mouth about that earlier. Thanks so much for your detailed review.

**They call me "3" occasionally....: The only hint of misflavor I came away with was a mild sense of loss at the almost storybook life Amon and Robin were pulled away from when they took up their shaky union with the coven.**  
Thank you for your sincere and honest analysis! It _was_ kind of storybook, wasn't it. But don't worry...Robin and Amon haven't seen the last of their Sovanan paradise yet.  
**If you do take time to personally critique your reviews, I congratulate. I'd pester you with followup questions but who's to say time is not limited...?**  
Follow up questions are always welcome. I love reading them, and I love (partially) answering them. Ask Joann McCrady! Fire away! Email is in my profile.  
**Authors don't pen for the sake of exercise. :-)**  
Oh so true. .

**Jiao-chan: ...I do have a question, though; are Witches really associated with the devil, or is it just some obscure cults? And if not, what gave others that idea in the first place? I'm sorry if I offend you with my questions (I don't mean to, I assure you!) but I really am curious about that and would like to know very much. . Oh! Another question; are members of the STN-J making appearances?**  
I don't consider any question you've asked to be offensive at all; don't worry. The only thing that would really offend me is if someone tries to tell me how to write the story! ; In answer to your first question: if you recall the descriptions of the God in Wiccan tradition, you will notice that he is sometimes represented as a horned stag, i.e. known as the "Horned One". For obvious reasons, Christians and Crusaders for hundreds of years have painted this God as the image of the Devil, mostly to root out and undermine Pagan tradition as Christianity swept Europe and the Americas. This association is evident in the anime series as well, evident by Robin's instinctive reaction to Methuselah showing her the cave drawing of the horned bull/stag/whatever it is as: "Devil." However, "Satan" or "The Devil" as we know him in Christianity, was in fact a product of the Church, and actually has nothing to do with Pagan/ Wiccan religion. In fact, as Methusalah states, belief in the Horned One originated long before any organized religion ever came about.  
Unfortunately, members of the STN-J won't be making appearances in this story, being that they're in Italy. But, that does not preclude the possibility of their location changing....in the sequel fic. (grins)

**aft3rglow: Anyway, I guess the only thing that I see wrong with this story--and this is just me--but I feel as your writing is sometimes rushed. I mean, at times it seemed like there was more to a scene, but you just left it. But don't let that comment get you down. I understand what the problem might be. Maybe you are conscious of it--maybe not, but you feel that if you make the story too long, people won't read it.**  
I recognized you from Harry's. Thank you so much for reviewing!  
I agree, many times I've been dissatisfied and frustrated because I rush the chapters, specifically at some of the endings. I honestly don't mean to...it's really not because I'm worried about making the story too long (even though it already _is_ too long); it's more because when I finally _do_ get the inspiration to write the entire chapter, often done in one sitting, I'm usually in a rush to get it done and posted so people can read it. I'm not blaming my devoted readers---I'm blaming me for putting that kind of pressure on myself. I'm working on resolving that, though, because I don't believe I write the best when I'm rushed, and I don't want readers to get that type of feel from the chapters. Anyway, I'm going to try my best not to rush the end from now on...and I hope I can continue to make improvements. Thank you for your honest critique.

**Pan-Chan42: BTW Seth sounds like a rapist.  
**Really?? Jeez, you guys really hate him, don'tcha. ;;

**Gin Ryo no Nari: So, just how soon can we anticipate more delightful moments of sexual tension? Will Seth become a catalyst for change in Robin and Amon's relationship? And, exactly how many more chapters is this internet novel going to be...or is it one of those, when it feels like it has reached a sutible ending then it ends?  
**So many questions! Um....answers are: Very soon; Possibly; and Given that this was Chapter 13, there are approximately 5 more to go.  
**Just one japanese grammatical thing, it may be irrelevant-it's not critically important anyway, but iiya-I believe is actually "iie" double ilong e sound and eeh (is that long or short a?). Your spelling may very well be correct, but we were always taught the other way. My apologies if it's a nusance.  
**Not a nuisance at all. I think you are correct actually, the spelling of "iie"....however I'm probably just going to leave it as "iiya" since it's more phonetically readable for people not familiar with the language. I hope that won't bother you too much. (grin)

**Mimipenguin: 1. You make sure that we catch the fact that Bast has green eyes. So, I'm thinking that she maybe has a connection to Robin, Maria, or Jana.  
2. You said that ammonite is the serpent's jem. I'm not sure yet if Amon has any semblance or relation to a serpent, or if that was just coincidental.  
**1. Mmmm-hmmm. (grin) 2. Nothing I write is coincidental. This particular aspect of the story is definitely not as obvious, though---so I don't expect many people to figure this out until the end. But I did start to make a reference to it in this chapter.  
**I think that what you have written so far in the story is on the bottom end of the PG-13 spectrum. So, as long as you don't write any sex scenes in great detail, then you can still keep the rating where it is. Otherwise, you might lose some of your readers that are easily frightened off by the R rating. It wouldn't stop me from reading, but it might make me feel a little guilty for some reason...or not.  
**That's a good point; I didn't think about the fact that an R rating might make people shy away a bit from it. Buuuut.....since I feel obligated to uphold 's rating system, and I've already added some _dreaded sex material_....OH NOs (smirks) ....I guess it's too late now, eh? Hopefully people will still enjoy it. I think next chapter will be enjoyed even more. Heh heh. (evil grin) Thank you for your critique, and I hope your guilty conscience still allows you to read the chapters periodically. .

**Tsukinoko1: Is it my imagination or is Seth evil? My cat is an excellent judge of character and it seems like Bast is the same.  
**Everyone says this about Seth....so I'm starting to believe it myself! ;; hehe. And yes, cats are _excellent_ judges of character. My cat in particular screens people very cautiously.

**Jade Lightning: If you are a Wiccan (this is an educated guess) it's nice to know there are more of us around.  
Weirdo's Rule: are you by any chance, a witch? I'm trying to become one and you are very knowledgable...  
**While I'm not of any particular type of religion, I don't know that I would classify myself as Wiccan just yet. But after doing the research I've done for this fic and for my own personal curiosity, I feel I'm definitely headed along that path. I'm actually attempting to make time to check out local covens in the area, being that I'm hoping on finding a group that would be willing to tutor a new recruit, as well as a chance to learn about the group activities and festivals. I'm bummed I missed out on Beltaine this year....so I have some making up to do. And just so you know, every source I've checked calls her _Bast_ or _Bastet_.  
**You've only mentioned Amon's awakened powers right as the factory collapsed. Since then, they have not appeared at all. This is just a theory, but a new Witch might have problems controlling outbursts when they feel emotionally troubled in some way. I can think of a few times in your plot already where they might've broken away from Amon, but they never do.  
**I've gotten several comments and questions about Amon's powers and why they haven't fully awakened yet. And your point about new Witches is very good; however Amon might be an exception to that train of thought. I've already hinted at the fact that he's not like other Witches. There is something holding him back from developing his Craft....and while the other instances might have been cause for eruption of his power, keep in mind the situations relative to Amon's brief Craft manifestations (in Factory), compared with when they could have manifested, but didn't (i.e., the Hunter's attack in Siena in Chapter 8, and the Hunter's attack in Chapter 12). What would have been his motivation for the awakening of his Craft in the Factory?

**Kira: Slurping is a good thing in Japan? I never heard about that...when I was in Japan; they gave me a lot of glares when I slurped by accident...  
**Most Asians---and I know this from personal experience, having dated a Chinese guy for 2 years and spending time with his parents---have different table manners than Westerners. They might have looked at you funny because you're a foreigner doing it. ;;

**ShadowShapeShifter: But will he Amon have a distinct Craft or is he just going to end up being your basic super human with amazing physical abilities (thirty-foot jump), or something else entirely?  
**I think the appropriate answer to that is "something else entirely". (grins) Thanks for your very generous review...and yes, Egyptian mythology plays a most definite role. .

**Foshpickle: Just what I've needed (and have been waiting for!) since they decided to pull WHR off Adult Swim. For a show involving french fries. And a shake. And a talking wad of meat- instead of something with an actual PLOT... ugh... yells at AS  
**(snickers) Thanks so much for your kind and consistent reviews---your comments have made me laugh. As for Aqua Teen Hunger Force....I have to admit, a bit shamefully, that I have a secret fixation with that show. I love Shake's twisted humor. ;;;

**Bumblebee Queen: ...When is Robin gon' get some of Amon's hawt brooding pooty-tang?  
**Soon....soon, the pooty-tang will cometh.  
**I hope you're going to make the whole plot of this story very clear by the end, because I suck at picking up subtle hints.  
**(laughs!) Don't worry. I plan on making it crystal clear....but even if you still have questions at the end, I'll post a little Q&A thingie maybe after the last chapter, and I will welcome any and all emails with questions that you as readers would like me to explain.

**Aliora: I glanced over a couple of the reviews already posted here and wondered, briefly, if you really needed mine....But where "The Burning Time" sets itself apart is its realistic portrayal of Robin. We look through her eyes and believe what we see; her emotions not only reflect those we expect of her from the series, but you've managed something I'm yet to see anywhere else - you've successfully extended her character, if that's the right word. ... Furthermore, when we see her from Amon's perspective, its like he's discovering things that we, as viewers knew all along....  
**I read each and every one of my reviews...and do not count any one of them as unimportant or not needed. Everyone who reviews helps me in some way, or tells me how my writing is perceived, or both....and sometimes they just make me feel good. Like yours. Thanks for taking the time to leave such a pleasant and thought-out review, even though I talk to you all the time on the forum and on livejournal, anyway. (grins)

**linkinthepast: well anyway i'd like 2 know wut ever happend 2 the answer 2 Robins question that she asked her grandmother about hers and Amons future together  
**The hints are there, sprinkled liberally throughout the chaptes---I know it's subtle, but it will be fully revealed in time, _mia amica_. Never fear.

**Alyson Metallium: I love the peep into Amon's thoughts, especially the map comment. Kind of nice to see him all hot and bothered, and gee, I wonder what all he was imagining while looking at that nice tub in Robin's room. (decides it's time to get her head out of the gutter)  
**(grins madly) I suppose you were happy with the beginning of Chapter 12, and Amon's little, _ahem,_ vision...then?

**Pheep: ...That man they hunted seemed to be an innocent witch - and, I find it interesting that Sela's rock craft is so similar to what killed Vincenzo earlier...  
**Well, at the time he Paolo Contini, the Coven's first Hunt victim in Robin and Amon's presences may have _seemed_ innocent, but it's apparent (by the next chapter at least) that he's done a considerable job for SOLOMON. No one could kill that many Witches (over 500) and still be considered very "innocent". Also, Sela is an earth mage, yes....but if you recall, the earth Craft-user who attacked Vincenzo was the one to suffer by Robin's flame after she'd recovered from being distracted. So....it couldn't have been Sela. Besides, it was a man.  
**AND, to add to that - not Seth or any of his partners (Such as Sela suspicious look) even lifted a finger to fight the SOLOMON agents.  
**If you're still referring to the Hunter fight during which Vincenzo was killed, recall that Seth did in fact help Robin and Amon, as he unleashed his storm (lightning) Craft to assist them against the Hunters. Not trying to throw you off too much...just giving you a little more info to chew on. (grins)

**KarissaEB: You know you're writing a damn good story when the reader intently reads bits and pieces of some scientific notes (and WOW... girl, you know your stuff...)  
**Thank you. Incidentally, the reason I know my science stuff so well is because that's my day job. It would be nice if I could just write all day/night long, and make my living that way....but I had to be practical and get a real-world job to support myself, and write as a hobby. Which actually works out well; because I can't do it all the time, writing is very enjoyable for me.  
I understand the insatiable curiosity to know what else the research is saying...and I would like to elaborate more on it, but I'm worried that I'll give too much away before the end. I hope it's not too frustrating with Amon reading scattered fragments of it, in the meantime, though.

**Jen23: I hope that I give you the great review that you deserve. I was so excited when I got the e-mail alert that you updated, that I blew off how late it was and the fact that I need the sleep that I have been lacking as of lately.  
**You guys don't realize that I always feel _guilty_ when you tell me that you miss sleep, or work, or something else of equal importance just to read my story. ;; I'm extremely flattered that you hold my work in such high importance...I just wish it didn't come at a price for you. But thank you, so much.  
**Jen23... Later, I could totally see Amon freaking out about the...Sacred Circle. I was shocked myself.  
Hexes: ...I think that Amon reaction was in his true style, I just would have thought it would have been funnier if he stayed, especially with the kisses. I mean if he couldn't even handle them being nude...  
**I hope most of the readers are beginning to realize why that particular scene freaked Amon out so much. It's not necessarily that Amon's afraid of _nakedness_...he's probably not a very innocent or prudish man, given his temperament and general hawt sexiness; not to mention that the Japanese don't seem to attach the stigma of shame to sex the way Westerners do. According to my friends who have visited Japan, porn is displayed quite openly out and about. His reaction to the Coven's ritual is more related to his general issues of control, and _restraint_...especially when he's around Robin. ;

**RosieB: So my theory is (you don't have to tell me if it's right) that Amon isn't really the devil/a demon, but more like the antithesis and complement of Robin.  
**Hmm. Then what do Robin's dreams mean, I wonder? (evil grin)

**synaesthasia: ... O my people, when this story is finished, what will my life become? I pray this is an ongoing fic, one that will last until the Semester starts up again.  
**To put your mind at ease, _mia amica,_ this fic will have approximately 5 more chapters to it---which, if I manage to write at the rate of a chapter every two weeks, will take approximately _ten more weeks...._yikes. Must step up schedule. ;;; But, even if I manage (somehow) to update more frequently than that, there is something else in the works; as I mentioned above in another answer, there is a sequel coming. _Ph34R the fic that won't die!_ (snickers) And I'm very glad I give you a reason to get online---I hope this fic is enough to keep you logging on for weeks to come. .

**Tsukinoko1: And I liked Nagira's email, and the idea that Amon told him about Seth and Robin in the first place. Very cute.  
**The poor boy has to confide in _somebody_...even though he probably knows that whatever he tells his big bad Nii-san, it's going to come back to bite him in the ass eventually, like, 5-fold. ;

**Ayeka Penor: There is a problem with the hunter-hunters' home base, though. It seems a bit too nice, too comfortable. There's no dust, so to speak.  
**Interesting suggestion. But, cleanliness is next to godliness, don't you agree?  
....Damn, I'm getting pretty snarky for my britches here. ;;

**Sarah Kerrigan: At first, when I saw the new chapter, I thought that it was another trick of my imagination, because I keep entering to the UnS forum and there are times when someone writes something on the Burning Time thread and I get deceived on thinking that you updated, then I get all excited....  
**Sorry about that. I have a tendency to not really post too much in that topic in there unless I'm updating---so when I posted a few weeks ago, without a link to an update, the Harry's peeps were like, _WTF???_. (laughs sheepishly) I feel bad about that. It's not nice to be trickssy with the updates. These last couple of waits were particularly long; I feel really bad about that, and am determined not to let that amount of time go by again.  
**Sarah Kerrigan: I'm still drooling over the image of a naked Seth at the ritual, too. Oh, and I really liked last scene, it's nice to see Robin so concerned about Amon, and viceversa, and it seems like everybody is noticing their 'hidden' or 'unspoken' relationship.  
synaesthesia: This chapter was much darker than all the rest. M. I wouldn't mind being in Robin's position .. with her handsome courters. & Seth nude? what a glorious chapter, Rofl.  
**Haha. I wish someone would draw me an awesome pic of Seth---doesn't have to be nekkid, but something that would reflect just how gorgeous some of you believe he is. . I would love that. And I know some fabulous artists! Miuixtli? Jbram? Starlit? Doujima-kun? RxA? Any takers? (grins) And "unspoken" and "hidden" are great words to use. That's exactly the type of relationship I wanted to portray here. _Grazie!_

**Sarien: When I read the summary for this story, I was vaguely reminded of the sacred feminine from the Da Vinci Code, but that's probably because I'm reading it now. ...I can't wait to find out more about Amon's mother and what the deal really is with Seth.  
**A few people have mentioned that they see Da Vinci Code-ish subtleties in this story. I'm obviously not focusing on the Jesus Christ aspect of that story, nor the Templars...but if you look carefully, there's some Gnostic/ Wiccan hints in that book that are quite interesting. You could even compare the references to the "Sacred Feminine" as the Feminine aspect of the Wiccan Goddess. . More will definitely be revealed about both Amon's mother and the true nature of Seth.

**Shirokitsune: Love. Pure. Unadulturated. Love. You know how I say, your updates are like a birthday surprise? My B-Day was June 01.  
**Happy (late) birthday!!  
**The tension is beginning to get to me. I need fluff. Good, cotton candy, airy, WAFFy fluff.  
**Hope this didn't disappoint! More fluff coming soon...maybe not WAFFy fluff....but hawt fluff. (grins) Thank you so much for your kind review---I'm so flattered that you think so highly of my writing. I'm speechless. ;;

**Alyson Metallium: ... are we gonna get to see anymore sweet moments like the kiss at Beltaine?  
**You mean the finger-sucking at Beltaine, don't you? Hehe. I will say that there will definitely be more sweet moments. I don't know if 'sweet' is the right word....but moments, yes. (grins)

**Aki Tari Nai: Is it just me, or does it seem like Seth is coming on to Robin?  
**Hmmmm. (grins) Could be he's just being 'gentlemanly'....

**Yuna of Paradise: Is that ritual they did even real? I hope not but if it is i'll respect it.  
**I took a little bit of liberty here with the "Drawing Down the Moon" ritual. I don't believe it's always performed naked, but that might depend on the particular coven/ practicing Wiccan performing it. There _are_ certain Wiccan rites that include sexual activities, but many contemporary Wiccan circles choose to omit the sex if it makes the participants uncomfortable. Just a little bit of trivia: many such sex-related rituals stem from ancient Egyptian cult practices; those Egyptians were quite bold when it came to being nekkid.

**keistje: How is it that you are able to take something so simple as the ritual anointing and turn it into something so very sexy? I just love Amon and Robin's growing relationship, it's just wonderful! I loved how he was thinking about her in the bath, and then again when he related the taste of the fig to her taste.  
**I'm glad you noticed the little part about the purification before entering the Circle. Most Wiccan practices require some sort of little pre-ritual cleansing motion, and I tried to convey the idea of Amon anointing Robin as more representative of his reverence towards her than the ritual itself. Thanks for your comments!

**bravedragon: I actually wish they did a movie out of this.**

Oh-my-God. For a live-action movie, I've already got planned out in my head who would play whom. (Yes, I'm a geek.) Lesseee....if he could modify the French accent to sound more Japanese (grin), it would be hands-down Olivier Martinez (in his long-hair phase, of course) for Amon; for our dear fire witch, I think British actress Amelia Warner would do nicely. She'd have to dye her hair, as she's naturally brunette; but she's very striking, soft-spoken, and has even played a girl grown up in a convent (!!!) and a young Italian woman in some of her movie roles. Hmm. For Seth, I'd _love_ to use Brad Pitt, with his blond charm (especially from his _Meet Joe Black_ days); however his grasp of accents _sucks_, so I might have to re-cast that role. For Jana, I'd love to have her be played by gorgeous fiftyish British actress Lynn Redgrave, whose head of chestnut hair and green eyes would fit _perfectly_.  
So if anyone has Hollywood connections---'cause I sure don't---please hook this up. Grazie! .  
Or...did you mean....anime movie? ;;;; Gomen. I got a little carried away there. (snickers)

**morgannia: when you get into the pagan religious explainations - it seems somehow idk - talky perhaps? shrugging my shoulders of course i am a practicing pagan & have been for many years, so the explainations are obvious to me, but i also realize that many others aren't so such explainations are necessary.  
**I appreciate your honesty. It _does_ seem kind of lecturing at times, but I take the pains to explain things in a bit more detail for those (and there are quite a few o.) who aren't as familiar with pagan lore and rituals. I appreciate your critique, however, and will try to make things a bit more concise as I continue on.

**TitianWren: I do not, however, love Seth. He's creeping me out. I mean, is he running a coven here, or a harem? Just kidding.  
**Hahaha! You have to wonder, don't ya? You picked up on that very well. Sela is not too comfortable with the arrangements, and I think that is explained a bit better in this last chapter, and will be even further explained in chapter 14.  
**That scene with Amon on the bed, by the way, was downright naughty, especially given the historical and mythological symbolism of figs. Naughty, naughty, naughty. mutters 'Must think clean thoughts'  
**(laughing!) I'm glad someone caught the significance of that....I found it humorous that the Italian word for daughter was "figlia".... "figa" is Italian slang for a certain part of the female anatomy....and, well, now everyone else gets the idea. Yesss....Amon _loves_ those figs. (snickers)

**litebrite: I know you've heard this a million times, but this piece really is excellent. The tempo/ flow, attention to detail, characterization etc.. It's very possibly the best story I've ever read on this website, period. I really do hope to see you write original fiction some day. ( I realize the wording of that makes it sound like a backhanded compliment, but it isn't meant as such)  
**;;; Are you kidding? No, that's not a backhanded compliment. I'd love to write original fiction, and if people tell me that they hope to see it soon, all the more encouragement for me to finish this story up and write it. o. Thank you!

**Mimipenguin: It's all starting to come together now! The journal entries really helped. It seemes odd that he doesn't understand the science stuff--I understand it.  
**Notice he skips around a lot in the journals. This is mainly why he's confused. Also, I don't think his confusion is particularly centered around _how_ things are done....mainly _why_ certain things are done. Yes, the DNA was taken from a mummy... the "source"....but _who_ was it, and for what purpose? (grin)  
**So they took DNA from mummies that had not been messed around with, took the parts they liked, connected them to plasmids, and inserted them into the ovum. Have I got it right? BTW are Amon and Nagira brothers through their mother or their father?  
**Hmm, that sounds about right, for the quick-and-dirty of it. (grin) Although the DNA plasmid would be injected into the zygote (embryo), not the ovum. And Amon and Nagira are brothers through their father, not their mother. I erroneously gave Matoko's family name as Syunji (which is Nagira's first name), instead of Nagira, which would have been her married name....but it's possible (and covers my ass o.o;;) that she could have gone more commonly by her maiden name, whatever it was, in her early attempts to avoid her husband's capture by SOLOMON.

**Sayuri: Do you have an update list? I mean every time you update , do you send an email to advise all your readers?  
**Unfortunately, no. In order to get email notification of updates, you must be a registered user. But it's not that hard to do, and you don't need to be an author, so sign up! Thanks for reading!

**Yelitze: Ok i have read your fic first in Lost in a World of Darkness site. By the way you haven't updated the fic there yet.  
**_Usuyami no Sekai_ is run by another WHR fan, Kala. I have no control over what is updated or not updated there. However, I don't suggest bugging the webmistress about updates, as she's got a lot going on right now; so for now, you can always find the fic here at I might get my own personal site going one of these days, and when I do, I'll be sure to include a link to it in my profile.  
**Im confused about how Amon is le casodre and el demonio at the same time??  
**Um...I'm confused too. What's "casodre"? o.o;;;

**megu-sama:  
**You've been most patient. Thanks for waiting through the long periods while I get this story finished. And what happened to your website, btw? I looked it up but it doesn't seem as though it's completed yet. I like the layout!

**Princess Kitty-Chan: Love the cat. I have a gray himalayan (cat that looks like it's face is smashed in and has enough fur to fill three pillows).  
**Aww...I love Bast, too! Incidentally, I modeled Bast after my _own_ cat, Isabella, who's a Russian Blue. They're kind of a rare breed, very pretty blue-gray color with green eyes; her fur is thankfully soft, but short. I think if she had Himalayan hair, I'd be covered in it from head to foot. .

And lastly, thanks to Cat, who has been the picture of persistence. (snickers) I think part of the reason I made a more valiant attempt to update is to appease your many little notes! Hehe.

As always, comments and critiques and further questions are appreciated. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, whether I answered your posts directly or not; and thank you for reading. Wow, this was a really _really_ long chapter and section this time, huh?? Til chap. 14, then!


	15. Chapter 14: Overrun

A/N: This chapter brought to you by Pink Floyd, Peter Gabriel's _Zaar_, Lacuna Coil's _Entwined _and _Comalies_, Kate Bush's _Cloudbusting_, Concannon 2003 Limited Edition Muscat, sleepless nights, long working overtime hours, and the number six. Alas, I tried to update faster, but I could not. I hope you will all forgive me. I have a feeling, though, that after this chapter I will either be a) forgiven, or b) hated for all eternity, one of the two. -.-;;;

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. But **please** note---the characters Jana Luciano, Seth, Sela, Bast, and other original characters belong to me. You may not steal, use them without my permission, or borrow them in any form while changing their names. This goes for the plot of this story as well. Yes, this is fan fiction, and not published work; but it speaks more about you as a writer when you think of your own ideas, as opposed to borrowing someone else's.

* * *

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 14: Overrun**

* * *

xXx

* * *

Robin walked slowly among the trees surrounding the castle, her hands loosely laced together in front of her black smocked pilgrim's dress.

It was overcast on this particular day, despite the fact that it was now late morning, approaching afternoon; the air had a strange heaviness to it that had not been present for the past week. The clouds above gathered lazily, swollen and pregnant with moisture, and an unusual stillness pervaded the landscape surrounding the castle. The trees were still with the absence of wind; the birds nested within them were silent. It seemed to Robin, in her romantic frame of mind, as though the earth and heavens were waiting for something, the world around her holding its collective breath in anticipation.

She had decided to put her hair up this morning in her old, accustomed fashion---ribbons twisted around the reddish-gold lengths on either side of her head---and part of her realized that she only reverted to wearing it this way when she knew _he_ was not around. When _he_ was around, she found that more often than not she wore it down, loose around her shoulders; she had an instinctive notion that he might prefer it that way, that it pleased him. It was something she thought she could somehow detect in his gaze, when he looked at her---specifically when his eyes had settled on her for too long, and had taken on that mercurial quality, like liquid silver…

She halted her whimsical thoughts, nearly chastising herself. _Even when you're not in his presence, you are thinking of Amon constantly._ It unnerved her to realize it; she had thought herself more levelheaded than that. But like an unrelenting tide, her thoughts were nevertheless drawn to him once more.

His actions perplexed her. He obviously desired the intimacy that had been developing between them, but it seemed that he vacillated between not wanting her to leave his side, and shutting himself up alone in his suite for hours; between being obviously frustrated with her, and conversely having more concern for her safety than even his own; between holding her apart from him at arms' distance...and pulling her fervently into his embrace, bringing his lips to hers.

Though it was not cold outside, Robin shivered in spite of herself, hugging her arms as she walked. As much as she tried, she couldn't dismiss the feelings that welled up within her when she recalled the kiss; how he had cradled her in his arms while still in the bath, one of his hands slipping around to encircle her back in the water, the other still cupping her cheek as his mouth moved hungrily against hers. Between the heat and urgency of his kisses, his demanding lips, and the probing warmth of his tongue, she hadn't been sure if he was trying to draw the very breath from her, or devour her whole...

She moaned softly, a quiet sound of anguish, pressing the palms of her hands against her suddenly flushed cheeks. The fleeting thought of Amon _devouring_ her with his kiss---as much as she knew it was not his intent---sent her body into a frenzy of tingling. Surely such a thing wasn't even possible, devouring someone in such a way...but, reflecting on the experience at length, she decided she should very much like to know the answer to such a hypothetical question.

Robin knew that there was _something else_ that followed such activities, something as equally wondrous and exciting, or even more so, than what Amon had been slowly introducing her to. Her education, growing up in the convent, had been more strict than most; Juliano had effectively seen to that. Instruction regarding behavior between men and women had been limited to ambiguous, sterile descriptions within the Scriptures: _coveting...fornication...Jacob lay with Leah, and she begot him a son._ She had initially suspected there was more to it; and later on, through rumored whispers, she realized that they had probably been doing much more than simply 'lying down' with one another.

Men and women's bodies had been made to fit together, according to God's plan; and if the earlier ritual she'd partly observed the Coven performing---before Amon had dragged her out by the arm---had been any indication, it seemed as though it could be something ethereal and beautiful, even between those who were not husband and wife; simply _lovers_.

_Is it truly sinful, as the Church suggested, for people to participate in such activities if they were not married?_ Robin wondered to herself. _If love was supposedly the basis of marriage between two people, and those two people had love, but not a marriage---was it still a sin?_

She realized she was thinking of herself and Amon, when considering people _in love_. Was she in love with Amon, as Sela had asserted at the water spa?

As much as she knew that she couldn't possibly know what being in romantic love was like, only having known love for God and the Church...Robin thought it must have been very similar to what she felt now for Amon. There were still the troubling issues of Benedetto's research, and the pictures associated with the Devil, as well as her own visions of the ram. However, all of the concerns seemed to melt away in his presence, in the exchanges of comfort they shared...not only during the moments she had deemed _sacred_ between them, such as at the spa, and in Jana's kitchen; but other instances as well. The security she felt when around him, as he shielded her from harm...the warmth in his features, hints of smiles, that she had begun to detect as they had strolled among the villagers on warm Sovanan afternoons...the feeling of her heart nearly bursting upon waking up and finding him in her bed, asleep beside her, guarding her even in slumber. The look in his eyes by the ocean cliffs, and before the Belfire...the knowledge that he would _die_ for her, if she would allow such a thing to happen---he had already attempted it, once. The joy flooding through her veins at his touch, and the sensation of _completeness_, of wholeness, while in his arms as he dried her tears.

_Is that what romantic love is about,_ Robin realized, as she continued to walk alongside the castle grounds, _focus? Is it the stripping away of the world around you, the narrowing down of all emotion and all thought and feeling, into this one singular core of happiness...making you feel as though you are_ one with each other?

She didn't know the answer for certain, but she decided it must be something like that.

Going back to her previous thoughts, regardless of whether the Scriptures approved of it or not---this _something else_ that followed naturally in the progression of what they had been doing---Robin found herself overcome by a willful curiosity. Amon had warned her in Sovana, with a tone of certainty, that the kiss would not happen again, but it had; and she found herself wondering if it might occur _yet again_, and what the ramification would be if they were not interrupted, as they had been with Hedya's entrance. Despite his cool demeanor after the kiss in Chianciano, she was ardently looking forward to the next similar incident.

_How wonderful, to be that close to him again,_ she reflected, her nerves singing and skin tingling in anticipation. _To feel his arms around me again, inhaling the scent of his skin…tasting his mouth as it presses against mine._ She could barely keep from allowing her lips to form a secret smile, and she tried hiding it beneath her hands as she continued walking.

"_Lei fredda é, tesoro?_" an accented male voice asked nearby, and she nearly jumped, startled. _Seth._ He had seen her cupping her hands over her mouth and nose, and perhaps thought she had been blowing hot breath on them.

She quickly replaced her arms at her sides. "_Non_," she said hurriedly, her cheeks glowing a faint pink; and she subsequently willed away the giddy smile from a moment earlier. "_Come va?_" she asked demurely, facing him again as he walked up to join her on the path.

"_Bene._" He grinned at her as he reached her side, his voice lightly amused. "Out on your usual walk?"

"_Si,_" she answered, nodding briefly. "I was just about to turn back."

"I see," he remarked in a casual tone, facing forward along the path but ducking a glance at her from the corner of his blue eyes. "I've caught you in good spirits today, apparently," he said, pointedly. When she looked at him in surprise, he responded, "You looked as though you were vastly enthralled by some idea, just a moment ago."

Robin fought to keep the blush from being evident on her face. "I don't know what you mean," she protested softly.

Seth laughed. "Come now, I think you do," he chastised. "It was something so pleasurable a thought, that you were nearly _raggiante_." His eyes were suggestive with meaning, roving over her form.

Her protest turned defensive. "I am unhappy so frequently, wear a frown so often, that the slightest change is so obvious?" She felt slightly distrustful of his attention to her moods; but when she saw his smile and heard his amused laughter, she realized he had no ulterior motive.

"No, no..._tesoro,_ I was just teasing you," he chortled, and she relaxed slightly. "It is good to see you so content. When I see you otherwise, I feel concerned."

Robin eyed him with caution as they walked side by side. "Do you?" she asked softly, curiously; and he turned to face her, both of them halting in their steps.

"_Si,_" he responded, staring down into her green eyes. "I am concerned about all of the members of my Coven," he asserted, his gaze never leaving hers. "It is my responsibility to make certain that the people who Hunt for me are well, and taken care of."

There was a silent pause as Robin digested his words, still watching his face. Finally, she spoke up quietly, a hesitance in her voice. "But according to Amon, I am not your responsibility…I am his."

"No," he corrected, just as gently as she had spoken. The reassuring smile was gone. "You are mine."

The certainty in his tone was slightly unnerving; she wanted to disagree with him, but was silenced by his intense and confident gaze. Her confused feelings immobilized her...what he had said seemed, on the surface, to be a sincere expression of concern.

_But was it?..._

Without warning, an ominous rumble of thunder sounded overhead; both Witches looked up in surprise at the sky above them, which had suddenly grown very dark with dense clouds. Robin gasped, a startled sound of bewilderment, as heavy drops of rain began to fall.

She looked at Seth, almost with reproach. "Are you doing this?" she asked, at which he responded with a boyish grin and hearty laugh. The uncomfortable silence between them had dissipated.

"_Non, tesoro,_" he chortled, shaking his head at her, amused. He tilted his head in the direction of the _castello_. "_Avanti_, best to get inside before we are completely drenched." He set off at a half-jog towards the driveway leading up to the castle, pulling his gray sport coat over his head to protect his hair from the steadily-increasing rain as he did; he stopped before having reached the paved road, turning to glance back at her.

Robin was still on the beaten dirt path, calmly looking up at the sky, her face tilted up to welcome the rainfall. Heavy drops of water landed on her face and hair, the chestnut-blonde wisps that had escaped her pigtails weighted down by them; she seemed completely at ease in the falling rain, as though she would not have chosen to be anywhere else.

She closed her eyes, relishing the feel as the warm drops splashed on her skin. The air was heavy with both the scent of rain and the perfume of the surrounding forest, and she took it all in, inhaling deeply---even the rumbling thunder in the sky above failed to mar her dreamlike expression. In Japan, the falling rain had an icy-cold bitterness to it..._this_ warm summer shower that bathed her now could only be found in her native land, and she delighted in the rare moment nature afforded her.

Seth watched her calm, serene expression with curiosity. Shaking his head in wonder, and chuckling to himself with the absurdity of it, he covered his head again and ran back to her side.

"_Tesoro,_" he scolded good-naturedly, "_come inside._ You'll get soaked!" He held his jacket over her head, in a futile attempt to shelter them both.

"I don't mind the rain," she asserted in her quiet manner, blinking as the drops fell on her eyelashes; but Seth, insisting she return to the castle with him, would not hear of it. She finally acquiesced and ran with him, allowing him to shield her with his jacket as they jogged up the driveway towards the castle. By the time they reached the entrance, they were both giggling like schoolchildren, their laughter spurred on by the amusement of trying to keep the sport coat over their heads while running. In his haste, Seth had nearly tripped and fallen in the grass on the way to shelter.

They both entered through the heavy door of the main entryway, Seth chuckling amusedly and Robin still smiling, shaking themselves of the excess water that clung to their clothes. After shutting the door, both finally raised their eyes in the gloom of the dark stone-paneled foyer to see who silently awaited their return.

Amon.

Robin's face fell at once, her smile withering under his dark scowl. She busied herself with attempting to shake the droplets of water from her dark, heavy pilgrim's dress, her eyes averted from her partner; Seth, on the other hand, met Amon's eyes directly, defiantly. The blond Witch cleared his throat as he smoothed his now-damp sport coat.

Amon turned his stern gaze from Seth to Robin. "I need to speak with you." His voice was low and neutral, but there was no disguising the edge present. "In my suite."

She nodded meekly, feeling inexplicably nervous. "I should...change first." She headed towards the hallway, ducking her head as she passed Amon, her wet pilgrim's dress leaving a watery trail on the hallway tile behind her.

Amon's eyes remained on Seth as Robin passed him; he thought he could detect the faintest smirk on the male Witch's face, laughter still present in the ice-blue eyes. For a moment, a silent battle of wills ensued...finally broken at length by Amon, as he turned to follow Robin down the hallway in the wake of her departure. He took the stairs at the end of the hall back up to his suite, two at a time.

Seth watched him leave, the smirk on his face widening into a curling smile as he heard the slam of a door upstairs.

xXx

Robin tried her best to calm her racing heart as she made her way upstairs to Amon's room. She had hung her pilgrim's attire in her bathroom to dry, and with her other conservative dresses being laundered, she opted to clothe herself in the black spandex bike outfit that Nagira had provided her while she had been in hiding at his law office. While a subconscious part of her realized how tightly it fit, she was comforted by the notion that it covered her skin well enough from neck to ankle, which was her main concern. She held a small hand towel, rubbing her loose, damp hair furiously with it as she climbed the stairs, something akin to an anxious flutter in her belly. Amon had seemed angry with her.

Perhaps he had just been irritated by her foray outside in such weather---it hadn't been raining when she had first went out on her walk, but now there was a steady downpour. She should have paid more attention to the signs that the weather was about to change, she thought penitently.

Robin stopped before the door to his suite, the towel draped around her shoulders, her chestnut-gold hair hanging around her face in wispy, damp strings; and hesitated, uncertainly. The door suddenly opened and she found herself face to face with Amon, his face set in grim lines. He stepped back mechanically to allow her to enter. "_Entrari._"

She came into his room slowly, her eyes focused on his movements, as he shut the door behind her and stalked purposefully to the middle of the room, his fists clenched. His mood had made her apprehensive, and she watched him carefully from where she stood.

He turned back towards her, finally looking her spandex-clad form over completely; she saw his eyes first register a perplexed sort of interest, then narrow in disapproval. She vaguely realized that this was the first time he'd seen her in her biking outfit, without the bulky red trenchcoat she had worn in Japan.

He visibly strengthened his resolve, channeling it into his stern voice. "You appeared to have a lot to talk about, outside of the castle."

Robin blinked. "_Nani?_" she asked, earnestly.

"With him." Amon's arms were folded across the chest of his overcoat.

"Seth?" She looked at him, a quizzical expression in her eyes. "We didn't talk for very long…"

"Seemed as though it were very amusing, whatever the topic of discussion was."

Robin's face crumpled in a bewildered frown. This conversation was definitely not going in the direction she had hoped. She had actually anticipated coming to his room, despite his chilly exterior in the foyer; part of her had thrilled to the idea that he wanted to be alone with her again, so soon, and the same part of her had secretly hoped that they would get another chance---preferably sooner, rather than later---to resume the activity from the bath in Chianciano...

It didn't appear that such a thing was on Amon's mind at all, at the moment.

"_Iie,_" she said quietly, her soft voice measured, a trace of sorrow showing through. "It wasn't."

He watched her silently, his expression unflinching. A slight dimple formed in his narrow cheek, betraying the clench of his jaw; Robin thought she could hear the enamel of his teeth cracking behind his closed lips, with the effort he made of grinding them together. She kept her gaze calm and neutral, even as she refused to look away under his own.

"I don't want..." he began, looking into her eyes, his voice at the same time stern, but faltering; he started again, slowly. "I don't want you getting too close to him." His reassertion of authority seemed to strengthen his conviction, and he went on, the tempo of his speech increasing. "He's not to be trusted. You know this, already---I don't know why I have to remind you again, Robin."

The young Witch refrained from wincing at the paternal tone with which his words had taken. Instead, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin---as she had become practiced at doing around him---and stood her ground, her voice like steel sheathed in velvet. "I was out walking, by myself, Amon. Seth joined me. I have no control over what he does."

Amon was unwilling to let it go. "You know yourself, that something is wrong. You've _felt it_, when you've gone on Hunts." He unfolded his arms and took a step forward, as if to further prove his point. "It's not the Hunts, Robin---it's _him_."

"He has been nothing but kind to me," she protested, confused. What did Amon have against him? She wouldn't deny that she felt unease when hunting, but she hadn't equated the negative feelings with Seth, himself. "Even as I've had problems controlling my Craft, he has been patient and understanding. He is not a bad person, Amon..."

"Stay away from him," Amon warned, the threatening scowl back in full force.

"You can't command me," she whispered defiantly, still shocked, but her words holding their own edge. _He will really forbid me to even be in the same room as Seth?_

There was a slight pause before Amon answered her. "Yes. I can." He took another couple of steps in her direction, his eyes dark and brimming---not with anger, but with something else she didn't comprehend.

"I'm your warden," he reminded her sternly, still moving toward her, "and it's about time I started to act like one."

_I'm your warden_. With those few words, he had said everything all at once; had lain out the painful truth that she hadn't wanted to hear, bare before her. Her _warden_...not her comrade, not her partner...and most definitely not her _lover_. A warden would not dare kiss his ward, after all, she realized; fitting them both neatly back into those categories would conveniently relieve him of having to deal with what had already occurred on numerous occasions between them.

She steeled herself again, her heart pounding; her response tumbled from her lips before she could even stop it. "Because it is easier to tell me what or who I should believe in, when you aren't showing me affection, Amon?" she asked.

Amon halted in his tracks, five feet in front of her. Had he advanced further, she wondered what would have happened---but for now, he allowed her space. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"You say that I should stay away from Seth, but he has done nothing to make him unworthy of our trust," she continued, watching him cagily as she spoke in her calm, whispered voice that belied the strength underneath it. "I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I believe everyone deserves at least that much from me."

He was shaking his head, slowly, from side to side. "That's where you're wrong. They don't deserve anything from you. That will be your undoing."

Robin had a strange impression that they were no longer speaking of Seth. "It sounds naive," she admitted sagely. "But I believe trusting in people will benefit us more than hiding ourselves away from everyone, never to be found. How can we hope to combat SOLOMON if we never make alliances?"

When he didn't answer, she went on, nearly pleading. "I want to trust him."

"It's too dangerous." Amon clenched his fists at his sides again in frustration, his voice now almost an anguished whisper.

"That is for both of us to decide," she responded, just as softly. "Not you only." She turned back to the door of the suite, opening it, and glanced back in his direction momentarily. He was stock-still, in the middle of the room, watching her depart---the look in his eyes tore at her very being.

"I'm not a child. I don't need a warden, Amon." It was a quiet plea, and it left almost everything else she wanted to say unsaid. _I need an equal. I need a partner._

_I just need_ **_you_**.

She walked through the door, aware that his eyes were still on her, and closed it in her wake.

xXx

Amon stared at the closed door, fixated.

_Christ._

His thoughts were such a jumbled mess that he couldn't have sorted them out if he'd tried. Infuriation, infused with compassion, and mixed with a pervading sense of helplessness; she had inspired all of those within him with her actions and words. Above all, her very presence in the room---once he'd fully devoted his attention to her---had only served to distract him. He wondered how in the hell was it possible that she had the nerve to show up to his suite in something that hugged her every subtle curve...as if he needed something else to fuel his recent nighttime fantasies.

He reflected on their exchange as he stood in the center of the room, his gaze falling to the floor before him. Though her words had cut him, he realized that part of him had been silently cheering her on as she had stood up to him, up until he'd pulled out his Warden Trump Card. Her visible reaction to such a statement had felt like the plastic bullets tearing into his chest again...it would have been preferable to the wounded sadness he'd seen in the emerald depths.

_Of course she's sad,_ he cursed himself mentally. _You maul her with kisses, smother her with them so that she can't breathe; and then you completely close yourself off from her._ She had every right to be angry and upset with him after his behavior---it was to be expected. To her credit, she had refused to demean herself by an emotional scene; she had held her stance unwaveringly before him, simultaneously authoritative and ingenuous, like the stubborn child he knew so well.

_She's not a child._ He frowned at the unsolicited reminder in his head. _And you know that isn't why you hold yourself back._

The first time they had kissed, in Jana's kitchen, he had stopped them of his own volition; but during the second encounter, that will was nowhere to be found. He would have continued, if Hedya had not interrupted. The prospect of what could have occurred in the spa---or on the hard tile of the cement by the bath, or perhaps one of the comfortable lounge chairs by the poolside---unnerved him.

He absently recalled Seth's words from days ago in the empty parking garage: _you don't control her._ It seemed each day that had passed during their refuge brought more truth to the assertion. Amon felt his power over her slipping, reversing...unable to return.

Did he ever have any power over her, to begin with? He wasn't certain of anything anymore.

_You don't control her...hell, you don't even control **yourself**_.

As much as he detested to admit, his dislike of Seth felt at times to be more rooted in envy of his attention to Robin, than real suspicion; Nagira would have had quite a laugh if he could see his younger brother throwing a covetous fit over a sixteen-year-old girl.

He grimaced, his head on the door, as he realized, _this must be what losing control is like._

A wave of nausea suddenly rolled over him, and he bent over, gasping, clutching the door as it took him. His stomach roiled with it. Behind his eyes, he was assailed with the vision of the broken and bloody form of his mother, her lifeless eyes staring out at him, as he trembled in the grip of the dark-coated agents. Flashes of memory beset him without mercy; flesh and skin melting from faces, the screams, bullets and gunfire...the cold dark isolation room he was kept in afterwards, for nights on end, with nothing but darkness and silence to accompany him.

He was trembling, panting, by the time it finished. Sweat had beaded on his forehead; the hackles on the back of his neck were raised, and he felt as though goose bumps covered his entire body.

_It's happening...it's awakening. Traumatic emotions exacerbate the Craft._ It was something that had been obvious as part of SOLOMON, observing the transformation of Seeds to Witches. _It happened to her, and it's going to happen to me._

_Jesus, am I going insane?_

xXx

Her pilgrim's dress having been suitably laundered and dried late that afternoon, Robin changed out of the biking outfit, back into the clothes that provided her more comfort. She was restless, though, not wanting to be left alone with her thoughts after her confrontation with Amon. Unable to go outside and walk to clear her mind due to the stormy weather, and with still time left before dinner was to be served, she opted to go and find companionship within the castle.

She didn't go purposely in search of Seth, to spite her guardian...but, she rationalized, if she did indeed run into him, Amon would probably be better off not knowing.

But, ironically, she had chosen to leave her hair unbound...almost as an unspoken message to him.

The pounding rain outside beat drum-like against the darkened windows as she headed upstairs, her dark skirts trailing behind her; and as she climbed the steps carefully, she heard the pitter-patter of padded feet. She turned to look over her shoulder, seeing Bast trotting just a step behind.

"_Buonasera,_" she whispered softly, a gentle smile gracing her features. "You've come to keep me company, _picolina?_" The gray cat paused long enough to tilt her head upward at her mistress and chirp pleasantly, before continuing to the next step. A faint scent caught her attention as Robin reached the top of the stairs---something floral---and she headed curiously down an adjacent hallway to find the source. Bast followed, slinking alongside the wall, ears pointed and alert, prowling low to the ground as though she were in stealth mode.

Robin came upon an open doorway, just ajar enough to allow faint light to shine into the hall; the floral scent was emanating even stronger than before. Cautiously she approached and peeked through, inadvertently nudging the door open even wider; a soft creaking of the door on its hinges punctuated the silence.

Sela was on her bed at the far end of the room, sitting upright, facing away from the doorway. Her legs crossed, forearms resting on her thighs as in the lotus position, she appeared to be in deep meditation---the sound Robin had made had not visibly roused her. Beside her on a wooden bedside table was a burning stick of incense.

Robin hesitated at the doorway, not certain if the open door was a welcome of any sort; she was about to speak, when Sela's calm and somewhat amused voice startled her. "_Avanti,_ Robin..._mettersi comodi._"

The young chestnut-haired Witch straightened, realizing she'd been caught. "_Scusi,_" she whispered softly to Sela's back, "I did not mean to interrupt..."

Sela twisted around to face her, her legs still crossed before her. She bestowed a good-natured grin on the younger Craft-user. "_Sciocchezza_. You're doing nothing of the sort. Come in." She shifted to face her guest.

Robin entered, leaving Bast to peer into the doorway, and she glanced briefly at the decor in the room before approaching Sela, who was still sitting with her legs crossed on her bed. The brunette Witch leaned over to the bedside table where the incense burned, and waved the thin wisps of smoke towards her face. When she looked up, she saw Robin's curious gaze on her. "Mimosa," Sela explained, inhaling deeply as she waved the tendrils in the air towards her. "_Bella, si? _It's a calming flower, the scent is very therapeutic." When Robin nodded in affirmation, taking her own tentative breath of the incense herself, Sela patted the bed across from her. "Come, sit."

Robin sat obediently, opposite Sela. Before her, on the bedspread, were a deck of cards, the majority of them faced down. "_Che cos'è quelli?_" Robin asked.

Sela's grin returned. "Tarot," she answered simply, picking the cards back up and reshuffling them in her hands. "Do you know anything about it?"

Robin shook her head. "I am familiar with runes and rune-casting techniques, as well as with circle magick...but I have never studied the cards." She had been inclined to distrust the cards, based on her SOLOMON training, which had dismissed them as folly; but her inquisitive nature won out over any skepticism, and she leaned forward with interest.

"Actually, runes and Tarot are supposedly complementary of each other," Sela noted, as she shuffled. "But I have to confess, I haven't been doing this for very long, so I don't know how much of that is really true. But I can do a short reading for you---just one or two cards---before dinner, if you'd like." She grinned again at the young Witch, her coffee-colored eyes friendly and warm.

Robin nodded, her own half-smile dawning. "_Si, per favore._"

Sela stopped shuffling and spread the cards face down before her on the bed, between herself and Robin. "First, think of a question that you would like an answer to. It can be anything, involving yourself or someone else; it does not have to be a 'yes or no' question. Try to keep your question simple and clear in your mind." Sela smiled gently at the young Witch again. "Then, when you're ready, choose a card."

Robin ducked her head in affirmation, and to Sela's amusement, closed her eyes momentarily to concentrate on her question. She did not have to deliberate for long; it was the same question she had asked Jana not too long ago---during their first morning in the Sovanan farmhouse---upon learning that her grandmother was of Witches' blood. It was a question that had gone unanswered; which on some level, she realized, disturbed her. She opened her eyes and chose a card from the spread, turning it over in her hand.

The emerald eyes widened in surprise and a hint of fear. "_Morte?_" she whispered. _This….this is what is in store for myself and Amon?…_

Sela leaned forward curiously, her expression enlivened as she verified the skeletal horseman depicted on the card. "_Si,_ the Death card." She looked up then, and seeing the consternation on the young Witch's face, sought to reassure her. "_Non,_ it's not necessarily a bad result, Robin. It does not reflect a _physical_ death, as such…this is a very misunderstood card."

"What does it reflect, then?" Robin asked, her voice betraying her concern.

"Death signifies a change in the seeker's life…something powerful that will initiate great change, which cannot be controlled or curbed," Sela responded. "It symbolizes endings, life transition, moves of all kinds...the leaving behind of sorrow, and regrets." She smiled again, gently. "It's sort of like a reminder, to focus on what is important...to 'get down to business', as the Americans would say."

Robin looked slightly more placated; she still was uncertain, but the fear in her eyes had lifted.

"This question you asked…it was about Amon, _si?_ You worry too much about each other, both of you," Sela said quietly, a fondness in her eyes as she looked at the chestnut-haired girl before her. _Poor girl, you don't need Tarot to know what's gnawing at her heart...it's written all over her face for all to see._

At Robin's look of surprise, she went on, nodding her head, answering the unspoken question in the green eyes. "_Si, certamente_...he worries about you, too." Sela gestured in the air animatedly with her hands. "All the time, with the questions. _'Dov'è Robin?_ What is she doing? Who is with her?' He always wants to make sure you are safe."

Part of her had intuitively known that Amon was that way when it came to her safety---it was hard for Robin to imagine him as anything other than focused and protective---but there was something about Sela's description that brought it home more vividly for her. Imagining Amon asking where she was, _worrying about her_, overwhelmed her heart with guilt and remorse; for hadn't she just told him, earlier that day, that she _didn't need a warden?_ To Amon, perhaps that was the equivalent of telling him she didn't need him at all…the very thought pained her.

It seemed as though it were only yesterday that she had given him the title, in the middle of the chaos of the Factory..._had I realized then what I feel now, I would not have asked him to take on that role._ Ducking her head, Robin gave a heavy sigh.

Sela tsk'd affectionately. "_Vedi,_ now you're worrying again," she chastised, and Robin looked back up at her as the brunette Witch began reshuffling the cards.

"I was angry with him this morning, thinking that he was trying to control me," Robin said, a regretful note in her voice and downcast eyes.

"He does seem to have issues with _control_, doesn't he," Sela observed after a moment, with a wry smirk; the implication of her inside joke---the comment she had wrestled from Amon at the Spa the previous day---obviously lost on the chestnut-haired Witch. "But perhaps, Robin, his concern is less about control over you...and more about his _own_ control."

Robin cocked her head, not certain she fully understood. "_Come?_"

Sela shook her head, smiling gently. "_Niente._" She cut the deck and set the cards aside for the moment, reaching next to her to the bedside table for a sip of tea. Robin watched her silently, green eyes searching.

"Sela," she finally asked softly, "what is between you and Seth?"

The brunette Witch almost choked on her tea at the innocent question, before regaining her composure and masking her surprise with humor. "What makes you ask that?" she demanded jokingly, to which Robin responded with a delicate shrug of her shoulders and a questioning look.

For lack of something to do with her hands, Sela set down her tea and picked up the cards again, laying them face down on the bed before her. Her expression lost its humorous facade, and became momentarily serious as her defenses were lowered.

"I can't tell you what's between Seth and I," she responded quietly, and her voice became tinged with a hint of despair. "I would if I knew it myself. But as it is, unfortunately, I am very good at assessing other people's relationships and their problems..." she smiled to herself sadly, "...and terrible at analyzing my own."

She sighed as she placed down the last card, her hands on her cross-legged knees, and her brow puckered slightly as she contemplated the spread before her. "Let's ask the cards," she said, looking up at Robin determinedly, and the young girl nodded in agreement. "What is between myself and Seth?"

She paused before taking a card from the lower portion of the spread, and turned it over in her hand, looking at it for a long moment, seemingly engrossed. "_Che cos'è?_" Robin finally asked.

"_La luna_," Sela responded thoughtfully, showing her the card; a moon's face in the sky, looking down on a river flanked by two pillars. "This is the card of illusions; it would suggest that I am confused, but that the situation will resolve itself in time, and I must not try to force issues that I may not fully understand yet."

She gave a sarcastic smile and set the card down, with a snort and a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Well, I didn't need a card to tell me _that._ Sometimes I wonder why I play with these things," she laughed self-effacingly. "It's just a card after all, _si?_"

Robin did not smile; Sela's words reminded her that the cards were foolishness, but she still could not shake the disturbing image of the skeletal horseman bearing the banner of death.

At that moment, both women heard the sound of cars entering the castle grounds through the heavy rain, headed into garage; the catered dinner they'd been waiting for had arrived. Sela extinguished the incense burning on her bedside table---looking grateful for the distraction---and jumped to her feet, encouraging Robin to do the same. "Let's go; the boys are home, and they won't wait for us to eat."

Robin exited the room, Sela at her heels, slipping on her shoes; the brunette Witch took a last look at the cards spread out on her bed, before flipping off the light.

"Maybe things will make more sense to me later on," she said softly to herself.

xXx

Dinner was already being served downstairs by the time Robin and Sela arrived, and nearly everyone in the Coven was present. Seth was directing the caterers, dripping wet from the rainstorm outside, to distribute the food and drink; Hedya, Gideon and Ethan were helping to set the large oak dining table, around which people were congregating, chattering animatedly. Someone had lit a fire in the fireplace in the corner of the dining room, and the warmth from the hearth added to the already cozy atmosphere, making the scents wafting from the delivered food all the more appetizing. Robin felt her stomach growl in appreciation, belatedly realizing she hadn't had lunch. She chose a chair near Sela, gracefully seating herself as the rest of the table had begun to do.

Coven members were already pouring themselves wine and grappa, and Gal, seated on her other side, offered to pour her a glass of chianti. "_Non, grazie_," she responded politely.

"But you must, _signorina,_" he insisted, smiling, and poured anyway despite her protests.

The spread was amazing, even compared to the usual evenings at _il Castello_. The appetizers included mixed cold cuts, salami and prosciutto, as well as _crostini_---a Tuscan classic that Robin had missed during her absence from her home country---thin slices of lightly toasted _pane casalingo, _unsalted Tuscanbread, with a variety of toppings; liver pate, grilled eggplant, and olives. The main dishes were similarly impressive: _bisi all'anatra_, hand-rolled pasta in duck sauce; roasted rabbit, stuffed with pancetta, ground meat, and hard-boiled eggs; _ravioli di melanzane_, eggplant ravioli; roast pigeon, stuffed with minced duck breast laced with truffles and foie-gras; and vegetable side-dishes with Belgian endive, zucchini, and baked artichoke hearts. Dessert was a spread of pecorno cheeses, aged and dabbed with crystallized honey; followed by a delicate cream cake topped with fresh berries. To drink, there were numerous bottles of chianti, as well as grappa; the popular brandy-like liquor this time having arrived in exquisite blown-glass bottles.

Amidst the bustle of dinner being served---Coven members walking around the table, sampling the food and getting more wine---Robin observed Amon unobtrusively enter the dining room. He had changed his clothes from the morning into a loose long-sleeved black shirt and black pants, his raven-black hair still damp, most likely from a shower; she vaguely wondered if he'd braved the pouring rain outside the castle. Nibbling daintily on crostini with olives, Robin stole glances at the open collar of his dark shirt, as he helped himself to sampling the catered food...she refused to admit to herself that she was surreptitiously trying to catch a glimpse of his neck and collarbone. She didn't know if he made an effort or not, but it seemed as though he studiously ignored her eyes on him.

Sela nudged her, startling the chestnut-haired Witch out of her trance. "You should talk to him, tonight," she admonished quietly, nodding in the dark-haired hunter's direction. Robin's eyes dropped to the floor.

The clinking of fork against glass punctuated the background noise of the dining room, as Seth held up his glass for the usual evening toast, and the chattering ceased. He grinned charmingly as he addressed the group.

"_Miei amici,_" he started, "tonight's the first time in a week that we've had nearly everyone together, save Noa and Leor, who are on assignment in Pisa. To celebrate this, I've taken great pains---" At this, the Coven members, with the exception of Amon and Robin, groaned dramatically.

Seth laughed, feigning offense. "---_Che, sono serio!_...taken great pains, to ensure that the dinner tonight was special..._cosi ingrato_." His growled comment elucidated hearty laughs from the group, and he chuckled, shaking his head, before holding up his glass of liquor. "As an extra treat, I've ordered this grappa straight from _il Distillerie Bonollo_, one of the premier distilleries in the region...180 proof, fresh-fruit-and-berry bouquet. There are several bottles, so _per favore,_ enjoy yourselves. _Salute_." He sat back down in his chair at the head of the table, to chimes of "_Salute!_" and other enthusiastic comments from the Coven. Robin glanced at Sela, seated next to her, and saw the brunette's dark eyes rove sadly over Seth's form.

The dining room resumed its former noise level of chatter. Between bites of roasted rabbit and pancetta while fielding questions from Gal and Ethan, Robin found her attention wandering to the far opposite end of the table, where her partner was finishing his meal, his dark gray eyes looking as though they were far away in thought. Hedya was attempting conversation with him, but he appeared disinterested; he had already drained his small glass of grappa, as well as a full glass of chianti. As she gazed at him for a long moment, she saw him suddenly push his seat back, rising from his chair, his eyes still lowered. He strode from the table, fading into the backdrop of the dining room scene; hardly any of the Coven members appeared to notice his departure, save Seth, whom she noticed was observing Amon's exit with lowered blue eyes.

Amon proceeded to the door of the dining hall, pausing just briefly at a display table. As she watched, in one smooth motion he had wrapped his hand around the neck of one of the blown-glass bottles on the table and disappeared through the door with it, out into the hallway…presumably returning to his suite.

Robin blinked, eyes wide, not sure whether or not to believe what she had just witnessed. _Amon, sneaking off to his room, with a bottle of grappa?_ She had scarcely seen him drink alcohol since he had become her guardian, with the exception of the occasional glass of wine at Jana's; he seemed to always keep it in check, particularly as he had at Beltaine, when Robin had drank enough for the both of them.

_It's not so strange,_ she reasoned to herself. _Amon has always gone to Harry's after work hours for a drink…it's most likely how he relaxes, sometimes._ It didn't appear as though anyone else in the Coven had noticed his maneuver, and she watched the door through which he'd departed for a few long moments, before sighing into her plate to resume eating.

xXx

It was another hour before the dinner party finally wound down. Some of the Coven members seemed to have lost track of the amounts of chianti and grappa consumed---Gal, Chanan, and Hedya in particular---and they were behaving completely erratically, stumbling over each other and the other Witches at the table. Sela varied between laughing at her drunk comrades, being a little more tipsy herself than she usually was at dinner, and watching Seth at the end of the table; the latter activity serving to sober her, when she did.

Robin stood gracefully from the table. "I'd better go check on Amon," she offered to Sela, who gave her a sloppy grin and nodded.

She climbed the long staircase, the sounds of the dining room antics dying below her as she ascended; the constant rain that poured outside no longer pounding against the castle windows, but now falling in a hushed whisper from the darkened sky.

She came upon the door to his suite, and straightened her spine before lifting her small fist to knock.

A rough, low voice answered her. "_Nani!_" he demanded, from inside the suite. Robin blinked, uncomprehending, at the tone of his voice.

"Amon?" she called hesitantly, pressing her hands against the heavy oak door. "_E' mi._" She was hoping her voice alone would encourage him to answer to her; instead, it seemed as though it were working against her, as several moments passed without any indication that the door was to be opened.

"Amon," she whispered again sadly, her voice dropping off as she realized he was not going to answer. Heaviness filled her heart…_he is still angry with me from this morning._ He was shutting her out again, turning himself away from her.

With a final somber glance at the closed door, she turned back to the hallway, slowly following it back to the winding staircase.

xXx

By the time she had reached the dining room again, Robin heard voices wafting through the open door; some innate sense of caution held her back from making her presence known. Finding herself once more in the role of spy---something she thought Amon would approve of, if he could witness it---she indulged her curiosity, and listened in from where she stood.

The other members of the Coven had dispersed, most of them drunk and pleasantly satiated with food, and the hall was now empty save for two people---Seth and Sela. The latter stood rigidly with her back to him, facing the dining table, her arms crossed and features stern; Robin's eyes widened as she saw Seth come up behind the brunette Witch. He brushed the tendrils of dark hair aside from the nape of her neck with his hand, and in one smooth motion almost casually replaced it with his lips, as he held her by the shoulders.

The sight nearly caused Robin to gasp in a mixture of wonder and surprise; she hadn't expected them to be so intimate with each other.

Sela, however, looked less entranced. She brushed him away with her hands, stepping out of his path. "_Smettila,_" she hissed; Seth appeared impervious to her reaction.

"_Che diavolo,_ Sela?" he asked, almost irritably.

"You know exactly what's wrong," she quipped dangerously, and when he gave a perverse shrug in response, she advanced on him, scoffing.

"You think I'm _stupid_ or something, don't you?" she demanded angrily, "But you're like glass, Seth; I see right through you. 'Noa's not here, so maybe I will go to Sela instead,'" she mocked.

"Are you saying you'd prefer I not touch you _at all?_" he drawled lazily, smirking in response as he folded his arms across his chest. He nodded, as if to himself. "_Interessante._ I don't recall you acting that way four nights ago." He met her eyes again, his ice-blue ones issuing a challenge.

"I'm saying, I don't prefer to be _secondo_ to _Noa!_" she shouted with vehemence, tears in her eyes. She knew his words had meant to rile her---nevertheless, Sela found herself taking the bait.

Robin watched curiously from the doorway, as Seth's features became vaguely softened. "You're not second to her," he said quietly, but with a stern undertone. "You've always been first."

"_Stronzata!_" she bit out defiantly, her voice nearly cracking on the word. She impatiently brushed away the moisture gathered at her eyes.

At that, Seth lost the patient, almost humorous calm he'd displayed until that point, and started to appear angry. "We've had this discussion before, Sela," he reminded her, his voice slow and stern. Sela turned her head away, fighting back fresh tears.

He went on, his voice rising. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this; I have always been up front with you, _si? Haven't I?_" He waited for her response, and she nodded penitently, her eyes lowered. "So…what do you expect me to do about it _now?_"

When she didn't answer, he spread his arms out before her in a gesture of impatience, his voice lowering slightly. "What do you want from me, Sela?"

She paused, sniffling, as she collected her thoughts rationally, leaning against the heavy oak table as though it were too much to bear for her to stand on her own.

"I want you to love me the way _he_ loves _her,_" she whispered, looking up at his face, her words sounding as though they were agonizing to speak.

Robin blinked. _He? Her? Who was Sela referring to?_

Seth's eyes underwent a change, but the expression in them was unreadable.

"I want _you_ to look at _me_, the way he looks at her," she whispered, tears freely flowing down her face, "like nothing else on earth matters to him but her, _neanche paradiso o inferno_...neither place holds importance for him." Her pained look held defiance. "And the way that she watches him, when she thinks he's not looking…" She shook her head, her eyes lowered sorrowfully. "She doesn't think he sees it, but he does---I know he does."

Something was burgeoning in Robin's mind, as she listened to Sela's anguished and hushed sentiments; and her skin tingled as the full force of what was said fell down upon her. It weighed like bricks on her soul, pulling her down into the depths of uncertainty…_Amon...Amon might...feel the same way as I?_

Seth was rolling his eyes impatiently. "You're not making one bit of sense---"

"You asked me what I want from you," she said sadly, her hands folded limply in front of her. "That is what I want."

"I can't give you that, Sela." Seth's voice was as hard as unforgiving stone.

"_Perché?_" Her voice pleading, broken.

"Because...I cannot. I've already told you, it's not possible for me." He turned away from her, dismissively, as though he'd already made up his mind how things would end between them. "And it's not professional," he added.

Sela's features hardened, into what Robin could only think to describe to herself as a _shell_.

"Then I shall go and tell _them_ that you are disobeying their orders, regarding her."

Seth turned around slowly, to face her. His features were cold. From where she hid behind the door, Robin's breath stilled.

"It's not right, what you're doing," she told him, her voice again falling to a pleading whisper; the shell was already breaking. "You realize that...I know you do...it's not right, to either of them---she's just a child, _per amor di Dio..._"

"So you will stand in my way, Sela?" he asked, bitingly, as he walked slowly towards her again. "Is that what you will do? I must know." The edge in his voice was an undisguised challenge, and she bit her lip, her eyes sorrowful.

He stood in front of her, face-to-face, almost forcing her to look at him; Robin feared he would move to strike her. His voice went up another decibel. "Will you stand in my way? Because if you do, I will _not_ be able to forgive you, Sela, _so help me_." He gave an abrupt shake of his head to emphasize his words, glaring at the trembling brunette before him.

Sela's composure and will held for one more moment, before both broke simultaneously in a flood of tears and suffering. Her entire body crumpled in defeat. "_No,_" she managed, before she was completely engulfed by the convulsive sobs that took over her body. She sobbed brokenly, burying her face in her hands before him.

Seth turned on his heel and made for the exit on the opposite end of the room from Robin's hiding place.

"I can't," Sela managed as she wept, "_because I'm in love with you._"

He stopped, for a fraction of an instant, before stalking out quickly, his back rigid. Sela sank to her knees on the floor, consumed by her sadness; the sounds of her wailing echoed in the now-empty dining room.

Not wishing to be discovered by Seth, should he round the corner, Robin gathered her long skirts so that she would not trip, and ran up the staircase towards Amon's suite.

xXx

The crystal-clear liquid swirled in the glass tumbler, as he twisted it in his hand; he could make out its shimmering form, the glycerol-induced _tears_ of the drink coating the sides of the glass, even in the near-pitch darkness of his room. _Aptly named, 'tears',_ he thought, fuzzily; _as if the alcohol is a substitute for that which some of us cannot shed._ He lifted the tumbler to his lips again to drink, tipping his dark head back slightly to down the liquor in a single gulp.

Amon leaned back in his chair, facing the rain pelting his window. He held the empty tumbler back up, the streaks of tears still present on the edges of the glass, looking at it wonderingly as thunder rumbled low and menacing outside. A somnolent sigh escaped his lips.

This grappa was _indeed_ a wonderful thing. It wasn't sake, but it did the trick nicely. If it could make him numb, like this; if it could make him momentarily forget who he was and why he was there…as well as what he _wanted_…it was well worth it to indulge in such a vice.

_Nothing like 180-proof, for blocking unwanted memories and deadening emotional desires…two birds with one stone, all wrapped up in a delicate little bottle._ He managed to produce something resembling a sardonic half-smile at the thought, and reached again for the near-empty bottle.

He poured, and was surprised to find there was only enough remaining to fill his glass halfway. Amon blinked, owl-like, in the darkness. _Zannen desu ne,_ he realized drunkenly, _guess I should have taken more than one bottle._ He reached to put the empty bottle back on the desk beside him, and missed the table entirely, the glass shattering on the stone tile floor. _...Oops._

He contemplated picking up the broken glass, to spare himself the effort of doing it when he woke up the next morning; but he was startled out of his thoughts by someone pounding urgently with their fists on the door of his suite.

"_Amon!_" It was a delicate voice, hovering between a shout and a whisper. He frowned; it was undeniably Robin who was knocking as though her life depended on it, pleading with him to open the door, again.

_Ch'kuso_.

"Amon, please open up," she implored, her soft voice muffled through the heavy oak wood of the door. What in the hell was going on? She sounded just frantic enough to cause him a moderate amount of concern, as inebriated as he was; and he got up from his chair and made it to the doorway without stumbling, to his amazement. He braced himself against the heavy wood with his forearms.

"Amon, _onegaishimasu,_" he heard through the door, and it compelled him to unlock and open it, just slightly, enough to see her face-to-face.

The instant he'd done it, Amon regretted opening the door to her. While the grappa had made him somewhat psychologically numb, it had spuriously led him to believe that it had deadened other desires coiling inside of him...but as he looked at her standing in the hallway, her cheeks flushed and chestnut hair tousled, eyes bright and breathing heavily as though she had run all the way up the stairs---he felt it all come instantly flooding back.

_Fuck_. The word thought aloud in his mind made him think of the innuendo associated with it, causing him further discomfort.

"Amon," she breathed, "there was an argument...Sela and Seth were fighting, and I spied on them and listened at the door, and---" She stopped suddenly, looking at him for a long moment. "_Daijoubu?_"

A pause. "_Nani?_" Despite his calm exterior, he was having trouble focusing on something, anything...Robin's voice seemed to fade in and out, like someone was playing with the volume control. He pulled his head back self-consciously, thinking she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Are you ill? You're sweating," she whispered, concerned; she looked as though wanted to reach out to touch him, but she probably knew such a move would not be well received.

"I'm fine." A blatant lie, he knew. He considered ending the conversation there.

She stepped closer, trying to edge her way through the door. "Amon...can I come in?"

_What the---_ "No," he answered, but it sounded half-hearted, even to him; her face was very close to his now, and it was more than distracting. He found himself focusing on her parted lips instead of her eyes.

"_Onegai,_" she whispered, and this time she reached to touch him. "Amon, I was wrong, this morning, I didn't---"

He didn't let her finish, instead ducking from her hand and shaking his head. "Robin, it's _not a good time..._" he warned darkly.

"_Doushite?_" she asked, her features registering hurt; she leaned even closer to him, so that he could feel her warm, quickened breath on his own lips…the feeling was nearly unbearable, even more intoxicating than what he'd already put himself through. "_Amon.._."

His vision narrowed, and for a moment everything around them faded into darkness; he felt as though he were back in Jana's dark kitchen, seduced just as much by the glowing candlelight outside as by the shivering, ethereal girl in his arms.

The temptation was taking over him, like a slow, surreptitious haze, whispering in his head...and he felt himself yielding to it, as he'd wanted to do, for so long...for such a long time...

_It's been ages, since I've waited for this...hasn't it?_

The errant thought actually startled him, rousing him from his trance; Robin was leaning into his form in a similar fashion as though she were pulled by gravity.

"_Iie, Robin,_" he asserted angrily, pushing her back as gently as he could manage; his control was re-established for the moment. "Go back to your room."

"_Demo_---" She was unable to finish her thought, as he unceremoniously shut the door in front of her.

He stood leaning on the heavy oak door, his breathing labored from his reverie a minute earlier...he listened, for long moments, his head pressed against the sturdy wood. He heard the sound of her own breaths slowing on the other side of the door, then a soft hiccup, as though her breath had suddenly hitched in her throat.

Guilt sliced through the drunken haze of his mind; he shut his eyes against it. _You fucking **bastard**._

Amon remained at the door for as long as he could, momentarily sobered and cursing himself more with each passing second, as the quiet, hiccupping breaths continued outside. He found he could not stop trembling, even when he could hear the sound of the hesitant footsteps in the hallway and on the stairs.

It would pass, he knew, as he closed his eyes in defeat; the fear and desire always did, leaving him with the familiar ache, the empty void inside of him...the sinking knowledge that despite whomever he traveled with, he was still, and always would be, alone.

xXx

Robin traversed the castle, taking the stairs to the opposite wing of the upstairs suites, and wandered through the long hallway. Exploring, she figured, would relieve her of the persistent sense of anguish that threatened to creep up through her ribcage and into her throat.

_Perhaps he really is unwell,_ she considered, recalling his perspiration and unfocussed eyes. It wasn't like him to be so rude to her, and she thought she had detected alcohol on his breath; maybe the grappa hadn't agreed with him. Surely drinking would have improved his mood, and not worsened it.

She came upon the door she knew to be Sela's suite…seeing it closed and most likely locked, she pressed her ear against the door to listen. The hushed sounds of quiet weeping drifted to her ears. Though she felt sorrow for the brunette Witch, Robin thought it best to leave her alone with her grief, for now.

As she stood with her ear against the wood, her keen hearing picked up another sound; a faint lifting of voices against orchestral music, coming from the opposite end of the hallway. She followed it, her curiosity piqued.

The hallway ended in a cul-de-sac of sorts, with the large entrance of a room slightly ajar; it was presumably the master bedroom of the castle, given its size. The music wafted through the open door; a woman's voice, sweet and lilting, singing in Italian.

_Con te partirò  
su navi per mari  
che, io lo so,  
no, no, non esistono più..._

Robin pushed against the door ever so slightly, allowing herself to see inside. To her surprise, Seth sat in a plush leather chair at the end of the room, facing a glowing hearth, appearing lost in thought; playing on a table next to him was an old instrument that Robin had never before seen---on top of a box spun a large black disc, turning endlessly, with some sort of wand touching the disk. Attached to the entire thing was something like a cornucopia-shaped speaker, through which the sound floated into the room.

As though he had sensed her presence, Seth turned his profile to the door. "Ah, Robin..._entrari_." P

Realizing there was nowhere to go now that she was discovered, the chestnut-haired Witch came through the door cautiously. She paused just inside the room, her expression uncertain.

Seth smiled, benevolent and kind. "_Avanti._" He motioned to her with his hand, and Robin approached his chair.

He reached over to the table beside him, lifting the strange wand, abruptly stopping the music. Robin felt her heart lurch unexpectedly at the loss of the song.

"I trust you enjoyed the meal, tonight?" he inquired nonchalantly, as he turned to face her; she nodded in agreement. He blinked, his expression suddenly curious. "What brings you to walk around _il castello_ so late? Shouldn't you be preparing to sleep, soon?"

She ducked her head, not sure of how to answer; he went on to ask, with a sly gleam in his cerulean eyes, "Did something Amon said, bother you?"

The blunt question made her slightly discomfited. "_Non_," she lied, deciding it was a white lie, and therefore very insignificant. With hesitation, she continued. "I overheard you and Sela arguing."

His features became that of moderate interest. "You heard what we talked about?"

She nodded. "_Si_."

Seth bowed his blond head, somewhat modestly, she thought. "_Mi perdoni._ I am sorry that you had to witness that. Sela and I have not seen eye to eye on things, lately." He looked back into her eyes with earnest. "I hope you were not offended, _tesoro_."

Robin was momentarily silent, feeling as though he was glossing over what she had seen in the dining room. "Sela objected to something strongly, concerning Amon and I...she said that it was _not right_," she said in her quiet tone, looking at him pointedly. "What was she referring to?"

He sighed and sat back in his comfortable leather chair. "Sela insists that I should not bring either of you on the Hunts," he explained, his eyes lowered. "She thinks it is wrong of me, that you are too young. But I know better; you are powerful, and your fire can be used to punish those who have done injustices to our kind." Seth was looking up at her as she stood before him, his blond hair illuminated by the firelight. He spoke again, softly. "We need you, Robin."

His answer somewhat mollified her, although it was hard for her to think of Sela disapproving her involvements with the Hunts simply because of her age...but she still had lingering questions. "The 'them' she spoke of...who---?"

Seth waved her comment off dismissively. "Our sponsors, _tesoro_." He reached to the table near him, opening a humidor box and taking out a cigar. He clipped the end and held it to his mouth, lighting it, before taking a long puff on it. Robin watched him silently as he exhaled the smoke, looking back into the burning fire before him.

"For five years I have been hunting SOLOMON agents," he sighed wearily, "without failure. I have never lost a confrontation, nor a comrade. But Sela does not trust me," he said, thoughtful, as though he were just coming to the realization himself. "After all of this time, she does not trust me."

Robin said nothing, looking where he did into the glowing flames. She dared not speak her thoughts. _But she loves him...how can he say that she does not trust him?_

"Sela has only been doing this for two years," he went on, "so I suspect such activities are still new to her, in some ways...when I first met her, in Siena, I was so captivated by her strength, her willfulness, her energy." He was far away in recollection. "I thought she would have the fortitude to stick through this until it ended." He paused, thinking.

Feeling as though the conversation was taking a perturbing turn, Robin looked at the strange disc box. "What was that music that you were playing, when I came in?" she asked him hesitantly.

He seemed to snap out of his daze, looking up at her. "Music?" He glanced at the strange box on the table. "Ah, you mean the record. This is a record player; it's become totally obsolete by musical standards, but it is a classic way to play music." He replaced the wand on the spinning record again, and once more the music started up, the ethereal female voice calling out softly.

"_Bella_ piece...'Time to Say Goodbye'. A famous Italian tenor, and some woman as his accompaniment; backed by the London Symphony Orchestra. The lyrics are what I like most, I believe," he said, and turned up the volume of the player.

_Si lo so che non c'è luce  
in una stanza quando manca il sole,_  
_ se non ci sei tu con me, con me._

"'Yes, I know, there is no lightin a room where there is no sun'," he translated dreamily, "'and there is no sun if you're not here with me, with me...' That is the woman, speaking to the man, calling him her sun."

Robin nodded, not quite comprehending, but hesitant to break his concentration. The song played on until it came to the male vocals, and again he translated. Robin began to wonder if he'd forgotten she spoke Italian.

_Quando sei lontana  
sogno all'orizzonte  
e mancan le parole,  
e io si lo so  
che sei con me, con me,  
tu mia luna tu sei qui con me,  
mio solo tu sei qui con me,  
con me, con me, con me._

"'When you are far away, I dream of the horizon, and words fail me...'" he sang softly, "'and, yes, I know that you are with me; you, my moon, are here with me,  
my only one, you are here with me.' He calls her his moon," Seth relayed, gazing somewhat sadly into the fireplace.

It was a poignant song; Robin felt herself pulled in by the beautiful melody and gentle lyrics. The references to the sun and moon made her think of the Sovanan villagers and their Beltaine myths, and of Jana's story, _the lady as white as the Moon, and the man as red as the Sun._

Seth finally looked back up at her, as she stood over him, the music still playing in the background. "_Scusi,_" he said, tiredly, "I have been rude, keeping you here, when you'd probably rather sleep. _Buonanotte_," he said, touching her arm with gentleness. "_A domani_."

"_Buonanotte_," she whispered in response. She turned to leave, making it to the door before looking back at him curiously. He was still in front of the fire, a forlorn expression on his face, and she heard the music dying away as she shut the door behind her.

xXx

Amon awoke slowly, his head feeling as though it were spontaneously combusting.

He groaned and turned over in his bed, fighting a roiling wave of nausea; the only comfort was that he knew it was alcohol-related. Squinting at the sunlight that poured through his window, he guessed it was somewhere around noon or an hour past. _Good God_, he thought. That was the last time he was getting himself drunk to stupidity on grappa---it had been several years since he'd allowed himself to acquire a hangover of such magnitude. He realized, as he sat up in bed, that his entire body was shaking.

_Food first...then shower._ Something was needed to calm his stomach, and soak up the alcohol that was probably still present...food and re-hydration were essential, if he was to be at all functional that day. He didn't know the Coven's plans, but he intended to inform Seth as soon as possible that he was healed enough to resume participation in the Hunts.

After dressing very slowly he was able to make it downstairs to the dining room, where he found a spread of pastries and coffee. Hedya was reading a local newspaper, and she looked up and smiled slyly upon his entrance. "_Buon giorno_," she welcomed him.

Somehow the same, simple words sounded more appealing coming from Robin. "_Buon giorno_," he returned. He bit into a pastry and asked, "Where are the others?"

"Oh, you were asleep, weren't you," the blonde Witch mused, smirking. "There was a Hunt announced this morning...very last-minute. Sela and Robin accompanied Seth to Arezzo."

The pastry halted mid-way back to his mouth. "A Hunt?" His eyes narrowed. "Why wasn't I informed?" he demanded.

"I believe someone tried to rouse you," she chuckled. "It must have been a long night for you, Amon."

He ignored her comment, suddenly distracted. "I'll go find them myself," he asserted, finishing off the pastry and moving as though he were going to the garage. _I'll be damned if I miss yet another one of these._

Hedya snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Even if you get to Arezzo, you have no idea where they are."

Amon clenched his fists in frustration, realizing she was right. He could do nothing but wait. The remainder of his food forgotten, he stalked out of the room.

The blonde Witch looked on after him, amusement gleaming in her blue eyes.

xXx

The drive to Arezzo had taken two hours, despite Seth having broken all of the speed limits for the local highways; and by the time they reached their destination, Robin was already car-weary, realizing there would be another two-hour drive on the way back from the Hunt.

The drive had been cheery, though, with Sela chattering to her from the passenger seat of Seth's Jaguar, teasing her about whether she had spoken to Amon and what condition she'd found him in last night. Seth drove, silently looking straight ahead.

Seth had woken Robin that morning with frantic knocking on the door of her suite, calling her to an impromptu meeting at half past nine. The meeting had been brief and concise---their target was a Hunter in Arezzo, and both she and Sela would accompany Seth to intercept him. His Craft was thought to be something benign---scrying, the same as Karasuma's---but the mole hadn't been entirely certain that was his only power, and it was also suspected he was heavily armed. With that in mind, both Seth and Sela had brought along handguns.

Both of them now loaded the magazines of the nine-millimeter Berettas as they exited the Jaguar, Robin on their heels. She looked up at the old, dilapidated distillery which they were about to enter.

Seth handed her a flashlight, as well as Sela's cell phone. "I want you to check out the barrel cellar, _tesoro,_" he said sternly. "Sela and I will take the main floor. If you encounter him, page us immediately. We don't know if he's hiding, or on the attack; you may not be able to incinerate him, given that your Craft has not been completely functional lately, but you should be able to hold off his bullets with your fire shield until we can get to your side..._è chiaro?_" Robin nodded.

Sela looked at her affectionately. "_Fare attenzione,_ Robin," she said, pushing a lock of chestnut-blonde hair, a stray from the girl's strange up-do, aside from her green eyes.

Robin half-smiled in response, touching Sela's shoulder. "_Lo farò_," she assured the brunette Witch. "I know you are worried about me, because I am young...but I promise, I will be all right." She turned away and headed through the entrance of the distillery, missing Sela's confused reaction.

She headed down the corridor and into a darkened stairwell, casting one last glance at Seth and Sela departing in the opposite direction.

"I want you to know," Sela breathed quietly, as they made their way stealthily down a hallway, "that even though I may sometimes have doubts, I do trust you, Seth...and that I will do my best to prove it to you, here, on this Hunt." Her eyes shone, determined. "I will prove that you can be proud of me."

He nodded, distracted; he raised a hand in a halting gesture as they approached the end of the hallway. A slight scuffle of noise could be heard; the wine-tasting room was up ahead, and it was more well-lit than the rest of the distillery, with large bay windows that let in the afternoon sunlight.

He turned to Sela, who had remained a few feet behind him. They communicated by eyes, giving each other signals and directions with simple glances. The tasting room was conveniently decorated in stone, decorative boulders lining many of the racks of wine and spirits. Seth motioned with two fingers, pointing off to the left, and Sela nodded, drawing her pistol.

She charged out to the left, to catch the Hunter by surprise; almost immediately she heard a gunshot, and her own pistol went flying across the room, clattering on the hard cement floor. She gasped as she retracted her hands; the bullet had grazed her skin, but not gone through.

In another second she had looked up, at the Hunter whose gun was trained on her; her eyes widened and trembled, and suddenly a large rock from one of the display racks broke loose, flying in his direction at lightning speed. It hit his hands dead-on, and he cried out in agony as he dropped his gun. He could no longer use it---the bones in his hands had been crushed.

Sela moved again, her eyes directing the movement of stone and rock, gracefully orchestrating their kinetic bombardment as though it were a musical overture. The boulders pummeled him from all directions, the Hunter falling to his knees on the cement, groaning.

A large sharp-edged rock came at the direction of his head; he was too dazed and injured to even raise his arms to protect himself. The impact struck his skull, nearly splitting it, and he slumped boneless to the floor.

Sela was panting from the mental effort as she approached the fallen Hunter to get a close look at him. She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to beam a triumphant grin at Seth, who had picked up the Hunter's discarded weapon and was approaching them.

"I did it," she breathed, "_grazie a Dio_. I was worried that he would get more shots in, but I..." Her voice trailed off as she watched Seth calmly bend over the dead Hunter, placing his gun back in his hand, and closing the crushed fingers around it.

Sela looked confused. "_Ciò che stai facendo?_"

Seth turned to face her, deliberately drawing his own gun from inside his trench coat.

Her eyes widened impossibly in shock as she heard the cocking of the semiautomatic pistol. Slowly her expression changed, to become one of sadness.

The gunshot could be heard in the barrel cellar, and Robin quickened her steps. She had already begun to turn back towards the stairs, upon hearing the noises and scuffling from the tasting room above her; now she broke into a run as she scrambled upstairs.

A man's anguished wail came to her ears. "No! _Sela!_" Two more gunshots followed. Robin hurried to get to the top of the stairs as fast as she could, tearing down the hallway toward the sounds. She rounded the corner to find a male body lying face down on the cement, his body riddled with gunshots and injuries; nearby, Seth was kneeling on the ground, rocking back and forth as he cradled a bloodied form in his arms.

_Sela_. Horrified, Robin felt her stomach drop.

"Sela," Robin whispered, running to them and falling to her own knees beside Seth. "_Cosa avvenuto?_" she cried, looking down at the mortally wounded Witch.

Sela was still alive, twitching and gasping for breath, even as a large hole had been blown open in her chest; her hands, red with her own blood, clutched at the lapels of Seth's jacket. He was nearly hysterical with grief, tears running down his face in rivulets. "He shot her...before I had a chance to stop him, he..." He broke off, convulsed in a wailing sob, and pulled her dying body against him as he chanted her name fervently.

Robin shed her trench coat, trying to press the material to Sela's chest, to staunch the flow of blood. "We have to get her to a hospital, _imediatamente_, or else she'll---"

In a moment of lucidity, Seth's face became almost devoid of grief. "No," he said, shaking his head. "It's too late, for her." His face crumpled again and he lowered his head.

Robin looked back to Sela, her own tears of helplessness welling up. Sela's panicked eyes flickered to hers, and in the midst of her last throes, her lips moved wordlessly---she was trying desperately to talk, to say something to the chestnut-haired Witch, but her lungs had been decimated by gunfire.

Robin shut her eyes, fighting down the bile rising in her throat; when she opened them again seconds later, Sela was lifeless in Seth's arms.

Seth sobbed quietly, holding her again to his chest; seemingly unfazed by the volume of blood he had been drenched in. His shoulders shook with the effort.

Robin bowed her head, her tears cascading down her cheeks.

xXx

She was in a daze on the return drive to the castle.

Seth had insisted they bring Sela's body back with them. He had wrapped her in blankets and put her in the trunk, saying he would give her a proper burial at the _castello_, where she belonged.

"Shouldn't her family be notified?" Robin had asked, as he had closed the trunk of the Jaguar with finality.

"She has no family," he had solemnly replied, gazing out into the Arezzo landscape. "_We_ were her family." His features had taken on that of grim acceptance, his ice-blue eyes appearing deadened, like a frozen lake in winter.

Upon their arrival back in Grosseto, she watched by the car as Seth lifted the bleeding form in the trunk from the swath of blankets, into his arms; her dark head tipped backwards, eyes open and unseeing. He reached up to her face and closed them, gently, with his fingertips.

"I will be back in a while." He strode out of the garage, looking down at her face as he carried her, bridal-style, out into the backyard. Dusk was quickly approaching. Robin held her bloodied trench coat in her arms, swaying a bit on her feet uncertainly, like a thin tree caught in wind.

She made it into the castle, inside her suite, and mindlessly dropped her trench coat at the foot of the door as she headed towards the bathroom. Bast trotted into the room after her, sitting down on her haunches in the doorway of the bath, watching her mistress with interested green eyes.

Robin mechanically took down her pigtails, slowly unwrapping the ribbons around the lengths of chestnut-blonde hair, looking at her reflection in the wide mirror as she did so. Even after she had finished, she stared into the glass for long moments afterward.

She crawled into her white canopied bed, still fully clothed...pulling the covers all around her as she did, burying herself in them. Tears rolled hotly down her cheeks onto the soft linen bedding.

Perhaps if she covered her ears well enough, she reasoned, she would not even hear the sounds of her own sobs.

xXx

Amon had heard the car pull into the garage, and he waited for Robin to come to him, as she usually had after the Hunts. When she didn't come, after half an hour, he became concerned. _It's not like her._

He strode downstairs, happening to pass by the dining room on the way to her suite, and entered through the doors. Members of the Coven were seated around the table, busily chatting and helping themselves to the leftovers from the lavish dinner the night before. Amon cleared his throat, and they looked in his direction, their expressions lacking interest. Chanan, at the head of the table, gestured for Amon to speak. "_Si?_" he asked, impatiently.

"_Dov'è_ Robin?" he asked, his tone clipped, and several of the Coven at the table smirked. Amon fixed his stern gaze on Chanan, ignoring the remainder, particularly Hedya.

"_Non lo so_," the Spaniard shrugged. "She came back with Seth from the Hunt, and we haven't seen either of them. They might be in her room...together, perhaps." Hedya and Gideon, beside him, snickered.

"_Si_, they've been very close, lately," Ethan piped up next to them, and more chuckling ensued. Amon's features hardened even further, before he turned on his heel and left the room.

"Wait---don't you want to try some foie-gras?" Chanan called out after him, barely containing his own laughter, and the Coven members broke into amused cackles in his wake.

He stormed down the hall to the suites at the end of the wing, and stopped at Robin's door. He knocked three times, forcefully, before trying the handle. It was locked.

"Robin, open this door," he called sternly, his fists clenched at his sides, jaw working in agitation. He knocked again, four more times, to no avail. "Robin," he called again.

Silence.

"Goddammit, open this door. Right now." His voice was rising; he had never shouted at her before, but nothing seemed to stem the tide of his anger. "Do you have someone in there with you? Is Seth in there with you?" The moment he called it out, he wanted to retract it; but her silence egged him on.

"_Kotaero!_" He pounded on the door heavily with his fist, his features livid. "Don't ignore me! Answer me! Do you hear me! _Robin!_"

Inside her room, under her covers, Robin shivered as she put her hands over her ears. She was already weary and upset; hearing Amon yelling through her door made her feel even worse. She felt threatened by the anger in his voice, as well as sadness that he trusted her so little to be by herself in her own room.

She pulled the covers even higher over her head, stuffing them in her ears, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could.

He thought about kicking it open, while he was striking the door with his fist, as though the door were the source of his problems; as though all of the doors that had been closed all throughout his life, were being represented by this one door that refused to let him in. All he wanted to do was get inside.

_Let me in_.

He vaguely became aware of how it felt being on the opposite side. _This is what she feels when you shut her out._ The realization of what he had done to her, and how she must have felt as he had done it, calmed him and weakened his anger.

The pounding of his fists dwindled to halfhearted tapping, and he braced himself against the doorframe, his dark head bowed, breathing heavily. Need had made a monster of him...he felt suddenly shamed, humbled.

"_Robin_," he whispered. He wished he could hear some sound of hers, some note of her voice, to alleviate his concern; to stop the near-painful twisting in his gut, to allow him to release the pent-up emotions that made him feel as though he were brimming at the surface.

He heard the low rumble of thunder in the sky outside.

xXx

An hour later, in the darkness of Robin's room, a lone figure on the white canopied bed turned over, sighing gently in sleep. Her chestnut-blonde hair fanned out across the white pillows, briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning from the window outside.

The window was unlatched.

Another flash of lightning revealed a figure crouched in a darkened corner, skulking in the shadows; black obsidian and dark gray steel, watching, listening to her gentle intakes of breath, her soft sighs, the swish of her bare feet underneath linen.

* * *

xXx

xXx

* * *

Next chapter:

Sacred communion...Raising the cone of power...The cold hand of Death. At all costs, the God of Chaos seeks to renew the sacred Flame. Chapter 15.

* * *

Soooo much Italian/Japanese:

Lei fredda é, tesoro: are you cold, darling?

Come va: how are you?

bene: good

raggiante: radiant

entrari: enter

nani: (Japanese) what

iie: (Japanese) no

buonasera : good evening

picolina: little one

avanti: come on

mettersi comodi: make yourself at home

scusi: sorry, excuse me

sciocchezza: silly thing

bella, si: beautiful, yes?

Che cos'è quelli: what are those?

per favore: please

morte: death

si certamente: yes indeed

Dov'è: where is

vedi: you see

come: how so?

niente: nothing

che cos'è: what is it?

la luna: the moon

miei amici: my friends

che, sono serio: what, I'm serious!

cosi ingrato: so unappreciative

Salute: Cheers!

E' mi: it's me

smettila: stop it

che diavolo: what the hell

interessante: interesting

secondo: second

stronzata: bullshit

neanche paradiso o inferno: not even heaven or hell

perché: why br

per amor di Dio: for God's sake

zannen desu ne: Japanese how unfortunate

ch'kuso: (Japanese) shit

onegaishimasu: (Japanese) I beg of you

daijoubu: (Japanese) you ok?

nani: (Japanese) what

doushite: (Japanese) why?

demo: (Japanese) but

entrari: come in, enter

mi perdoni: forgive me

tesoro: darling, treasure

buonanotte: good night

A domani: see you tomorrow

è chiaro: is that clear?

fare attenzione: be careful

Lo farò: I will

grazie a Dio: thank God

ciò che stai facendo: what are you doing?

cosa avvenuto: what happened?

imediatamente: immediately

non lo so: I don't know

kotaero: (Japanese) answer!

* * *

Thanks for reading! Responses to previous reviews, as well as reviews for this chapter, will be posted at _The Renewal_, the blog site link posted in my profile. 

This might have seemed to be a strange place to end the chapter; I had originally intended on including the following scene, but that scene in particular is going to be _long_...and this chapter was already long enough. So this scene will appear in the soon-to-be-coming chapter 15, when it was originally intended to be in this one.

The song "Time to Say Goodbye" is originally by Italian opera tenor Andrea Bocelli, although this version I refer to in the story is the 1997 duet he does with Sarah Brightman. Of course the reference to _Witch Hunter Robin_ is obvious, as it is the title of the infamous Episode 15. (Incidentally, nearly all episodes in WHR are named after songs---whose lyrics remarkably fit the episodes, when you read them---but I digress.)

Those of you who are able to should listen to this song, as well as the song on the WHR Original Soundtrack 2, "Decision". The only time "Decision" is played in the entire series is during the scene in Ep 15, where Amon leads Robin downstairs, escaping SOLOMON paratroopers, to the well where she will escape. Now, listen to "TTSG" first, and then the WHR song...similar, aren't they? The tempo of "Decision", with its marching-like snare drum beats, sounds exactly like the "_Time to say goodbye/Con te partirò_" chorus of the Italian song. Even the flute-like melody in the very beginning of "Decision" is eerily reminiscent of TTSG, mimicking the first words of both Andrea and Sarah's vocals. I honestly think the creators of WHR had this very song---and possibly the lyrics, with the "sun and moon" references---in mind when they wrote Ep 15. For the Italian and English translated lyrics of the song, check out my blog. (winks)

PS...Thank you for the Japanese assistance---I'm much obliged. I corrected the "kotaero"; however I'm keeping the "zannen desu ne" as an example of just how drunk Amon is while he's pouring grappa in his room. -grin-

Hang in there for the next chapter, folks---it shall be coming along soon, and by soon I definitely don't mean two months from now. ;)


	16. Chapter 15: Pyre

**Author's Note**: This is the **edited** version of this chapter. The complete unedited (read: smuttish) version is hosted at The Renewal, the link to which is in my profile, as well as at Usuyami no Sekai.

Okay. No guarantees on when I'll have the next chapter out. I should know better by now than to attempt to put a time limit on when I can get this story done.

Thanks for your patience, everyone. You've been very good to me.

* * *

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 15: Pyre**

* * *

xXx

* * *

He had entered her room in stealth, and now Amon hung back in the darkened shadows, observing her somewhat fitful sleep. Periodic lightning flashed briefly outside, illuminating his form in her room.

Robin had left her first-story window unlatched and slightly open. He knew it was her habit to do so, even when the weather was less than desirable; he'd remembered how she craved the fresh air, the smell of the woods outside, the salty tang of the ocean breeze. Even the scent of rain appealed to her.

It had been the one thing he'd counted on to enable him to enter her room undetected.

Now he watched her in darkness, as he had for nearly the past thirty minutes while she'd slept, listening to her quiet breathing against the backdrop of distant, rumbling thunder outside. It had given him plenty of time to reflect.

He was much calmer than he'd been earlier, his anger and frustration having dissolved almost immediately upon seeing her asleep in her bed. She appeared to have already taken her nightly bath, before he'd entered her room; her chestnut-blonde hair, now fanned out against her pillow, had appeared damp when he'd first seen it. He'd caught a glimpse of her naked shoulder as she had turned over during sleep, suggesting she was unclothed, as was her nightly custom. There was no evidence that anyone besides Bast had been in the room with her since she had returned from the Hunt, not Seth nor Sela; everything in the room was in its right place.

Her countenance was calm, she appeared safe and secure…and incongruously the word _perfect_ sprang to his mind. He could even make out the delicate porcelain tone of her skin, the play of shadows in the room against her pale flesh, once his eyes had adjusted to the dark.

His thoughts, disobedient as they were, entertained themselves with the notion of silently stealing up to the pristine, white four-poster bed…standing over it, gazing at her while she slumbered, tracing the curves of her body underneath the sheet with his eyes...furtively reaching his hand out to touch her hair. He remembered that it had felt like silk to his touch, recalled the feeling of his lips against the crown of her head; he could still feel the strands of it through his fingers, from his dream memory, as he had reached down...

Whispers of the dream returned to him...green eyes flashing at him in the dim light; the softness and fragrance of her skin as she slid herself upwards along the length of the bed, pressing against him...

He felt his body tightening involuntarily in response to the memory, narrowing his eyes in the darkness as his nostrils flared. _They're just thoughts...only thoughts._

He stiffened even further as she sighed again, a soft flutter of breath against white linen, and turned over once more in sleep. Momentarily he held his breath, waiting for her to awaken and discover him watching her, coveting her...releasing it, unhurriedly, when her movements stilled.

Guilt still gnawed at him from his earlier outburst. She hadn't deserved the vitriol he'd unleashed against her door...it was beyond him what had possessed him to react in such a way, especially when she'd never given him any indication that she'd do something such as lock herself in her room with Seth. He ultimately knew how ridiculous the idea was, and yet he'd let his insane jealousy rule him into thinking otherwise.

And now, here he was, hiding in her room like a common thief, watching her sleep. Amon felt his self-regard sinking to new lows.

And yet...he couldn't bring himself to leave. _Not yet. Not yet...just a few more minutes; then you'll go back through the window and she won't ever have known you were here._ The voice in his head was just insistent enough for him to obey it.

Robin moved again on the bed before him, and once more he calmed his breathing. A soft rustling of the sheets was heard; he waited, patiently. His clenched fists relaxed as the rustling stopped.

Suddenly she bolted upright in bed---miraculously managing somehow to keep her upper body covered by the sheet---and looked directly at him, with startlingly clear emerald eyes.

Amon's heart nearly leapt through his throat in surprise. His first thought was, _kuso._ His second thought was, _iie...not possible that her eyes could have adjusted to the dark that fast._

"Amon?" she called out, her voice trembling and uncertain in the darkness, and he watched as her eyes scanned the room slowly. So, she hadn't seen him...but it seemed as if she had _sensed_ him, somehow.

She clutched the fabric of the blanket around her nude form almost nervously, still searching the pitch-dark room as she did. He felt his blood thrumming as he watched her, his nerves and senses alerted...he saw the quickened rising and falling of her chest beneath the sheet, her gold-spun chestnut hair surrounding her naked shoulders, her hesitantly parted lips.

"_Amon,_" she said again, as though she _knew_ he was there, her voice no longer uncertain but nearly whisper-soft---a lover's caress. The tenderness in her voice lured him out, drew him towards her, as it always did.

He felt his body moving as though by remote control, stepping forward from the shadows that hid him. He stopped, standing in plain view in the dim room, his hands clenched in gloved fists; and he watched as her eyes, finally adjusting to the scant light, fixed on him and widened imperceptibly. She seemed somehow almost relieved at first, but her countenance became once again hesitant as she observed his cold, stoic expression.

Amon knew his features were intimidating, but he kept them as neutral as possible. If he were to find out the reason she had refused to let him in, if there was anything that she'd been hiding from him, he would have to remain firm and resolute, even in the face of her tears. He took three slow and measured steps forward, towards the loft-raised bed.

Robin held the sheet even closer to her body, and seemed to shrink back against the pillows supporting her. He saw the delicate muscles of her white throat as she swallowed. _What I said at her door must have affected her more than I realized,_ he thought.

"_Naze?_" he asked, his voice low and soft, as if her reaction towards him had been a verbal statement. He took two more steps towards the loft and stopped a few feet before it, cocking his dark head. "Are you afraid of me, Robin?"

She shook hers slowly, green eyes still wide in the dark. "What are you doing here?" she asked, after another moment.

"Why didn't you open your door?" The question held a trace of severity to it, and he tried to ignore the look in her eyes as he waited for her response.

"_N-non lo so._" She seemed to resume some of her former strength, and gathering the sheet from the bed around her, she moved her legs to the side of the bed and rose from it gracefully. _If he wants me to be strong and prove that I don't need a warden, than I will do so._ She stood at the edge of the loft, the sheet wound around her lithe frame, fixing him with her gaze almost as a challenge.

"That's not much of an answer." He thought he could hear Nagira's voice in his head in response: _Sarcasm laced with idle threat. Way to make the naked sixteen-year-old wearing a sheet feel comfortable, buddy._

"You were so angry," she explained in a quiet voice, "I thought that there was nothing I could have said to you at that moment that wouldn't have made you angrier."

It took the wind out of his sails somewhat. He realized that she was probably right in her assumption.

She went on, still looking into his eyes from where she stood on the loft beside the bed. "There was an accident during the Hunt today." Her voice hushed as she dropped her eyes to the floor. "Sela is dead."

A touch of dread had risen in Amon's throat at the words _accident during the Hunt_...followed by a feeling that he sickeningly recognized as _relief_. He swallowed over it with difficulty as his eyes narrowed.

"I don't know exactly what happened, I didn't see it," she continued, her words slow and quiet, almost in answer to his unspoken question. She barely noticed his stealthy approach, as she drew the blanket more tightly around her frame. "I was in the barrel cellar, I could hear a scuffle going on at the floor above me...but then I heard shots...I ran upstairs and...saw Seth holding her against his chest..."

Amon had furtively reached the edge of the loft and stood motionless, his eyes having never left her form. Lightning flashed again through the window, farther away this time as evident from the delayed and softened sound of thunder.

"Her chest was torn open by the wound," she went on, her gaze still lowered. "I told Seth we needed to take her to the hospital, that it was her only chance...but it was too late...there was so much blood..." His eyes made out the involuntary shiver in the darkness. Her voice was very small. "I watched her take her last breaths."

A fire was something that consumed almost instantaneously, that eliminated with purity and totality---at least her Craft's flame did---not in drawn-out, agonizing breaths, not with this much blood. Even the attack on her coworkers at Raven's Flat so many months ago had not traumatized her as this had.

She paused, shaking her head slowly, and when her eyes met his again, he could see they had become shimmering emerald pools of grief. "I don't think I can do this, Amon."

"_Nan da to?_" he asked calmly. She seemed not to have reacted to his new proximity, and he dared to venture even further, taking one of the shallow wooden loft steps at a time.

"Sometimes I think this responsibility is too great, being the Eve of Witches, being the 'hope' that Maria wanted me to be," she responded, her voice laden with distress. "I worry that I can't save everyone. _Sela_ didn't deserve to die---she was protecting other Witches from SOLOMON---neither did Vincenzo..."

"Those situations were out of your control." He halted again on the third step of the loft, standing still four steps below her, several feet away so that he still had to tilt his gaze up to hers. The consolation he drummed up sounded meager, even to himself. "You should only do as much as you're---"

"I can't conjure fire any longer, Amon."

Her words stopped him in mid-sentence.

_It's just as Jana had warned..._ Amon felt suddenly and inexplicably unable to breathe, the enormity of what she had just said hanging heavily in the air between them.

"My powers are almost entirely useless now. I tried during the Hunt; I can barely call forth a spark, much less my Craft." Fear, and something else that resembled despair, was alight in her eyes as she whispered, "I feel so helpless...how can I be their 'hope' if I can't save the ones who need to be saved?"

Something in him strengthened in certainty, and he felt it extend to his voice. "You are…because I know it to be true." _Because you are **my hope**...and I'd never had any before now._

"But how do you know? Maybe I wasn't meant to have such powers for very long. Perhaps Toudou made a mistake; perhaps I'm not the _perfect Witch_ after all…."

She tightened the blanket around herself. "Maybe God is punishing me."

The thought made his insides twist in a combination of frustration and sympathy. It was just like her to take the blame of the loss of her Craft upon herself, as though she had done something wrong---_that damned Catholic guilt_. Always the assumption that one had sinned; that repentance was compulsory. He hadn't seen her display such culpability since Juliano's visit to Raven's Flat.

Which angered him more, when he thought about it. _**She** isn't supposed to doubt herself. If she is what Toudou envisioned her to be---if she is what Jana and Gennaro and the other Sovanan townsfolk believe she is---_

"I doubt He would dare attempt such a thing," he said softly.

She looked back at him then, with a gaze that suggested she was partly shocked---and yet secretly somewhat pleased---by his blasphemy, hints of desire and yearning etched in her young face.

Her eyes fell upon the steps and distance that still separated them both, before fearlessly meeting his own once more. "Maybe it is _you_ who is afraid of _me,_ Amon," she said, whisper-soft, innately twisting his earlier question.

He was silent and still at this, contemplating---painfully aware of the futility of his prior actions that had led up to this moment. It was, in a sense, strangely liberating.

After another moment, he stepped forward.

Robin stood her ground, watching him slowly and purposefully ascend the remaining steps of the loft. He saw what he thought might have been a slight tremor course through her as he ominously removed his black leather gloves one by one, discarding them onto the floor as though it were an afterthought.

He closed the space between them, coming to stand directly in front of her, a faint inclination of his head to allow their gazes to remain locked; she was tall for her age, but still came up only to his chin---slightly lower without her boots. Up this close, he could see the deep green of her eyes, the small gold flecks that defined them---much like the color of Bast's, he remembered suddenly---near the center. He recalled the Belfire in Sovana, the bright flame rolling and swelling, signifying divinity; he recalled it again, leaping into her eyes as she called forth her Craft…heat and light, the essence of the sun.

Amon was aware of his mind suddenly racing, _churning overtime_, to compete with the increased tempo of his heart. "Do you truly believe that?" he asked, straining to keep the calm in his voice.

"_Iie._" He felt her breath on his face as she spoke; hers seemed as though it had begun to come faster. "But sometimes I question it."

He reached out to her, needing the contact, brushing her bare shoulder with the back of his fingers, almost hesitantly...looking at the delicate skin there all the while, as though it were something complex and fascinating. She lowered her eyes, seeming to concentrate on his touch.

"I don't want you to question it," he said, quietly. She held her breath as his hand moved from her shoulder to cup her face, near her ear, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "Robin...I don't want you to question _yourself_."

He was taken aback by what he saw in the brilliant green eyes, brighter than usual in the darkened room. "_Nani?_" he asked with gentleness. His hand tightened slightly in her hair.

"I want to touch you," she whispered finally, and he felt the last of his armor falling down in a pile at his feet, "so badly...but I'm afraid that you won't allow me to..."

With that he withdrew his hand from her face, took hold of the hand not holding her sheet against her body, and gently pressed her open palm against his dark shirtfront. Through his open overcoat, he was certain she could feel the steady pounding of his heart, hammering beneath his skin. She looked into his eyes again---hers having widened appreciatively at his actions---and he began to move her hand leisurely upwards, as if to encourage her.

Robin took his lead and moved her hand of her own accord, past his collarbone under his shirt, brushing over his neck...allowing it to finally rest against his jaw line, which she cupped lovingly in the palm of her hand, returning his earlier action. Her fingers continued to move along his face; he watched her expression, open and rapturous, as she learned his features by touch. He felt her brush lightly over his lips, and on playful instinct he parted them, halfheartedly attempting to trap a slender finger.

She gasped, a soft startled sound, and Amon took advantage of the moment to pull Robin gently into his embrace. He pressed her against him, all light and sweetness and quiet melancholy of her, at the same time intuitively mindful to keep the sheet surrounding her in place.

He felt her sigh heavily against his neck; by the sound of it, he was certain that if he had looked, that her eyes would be glistening. "Why don't you trust me?" he heard her whisper, a shaken, choked sound. "I just want to be close to you."

_Therein lies the problem..._ He swallowed over something in his throat. "You don't want me to be your warden," he offered lowly against her hair, rubbing his cheek against the chestnut silk.

"I didn't entirely mean that," Robin whispered reluctantly. "But is this so terrible, to be something else?" Her free hand embedded itself in the lapel of his overcoat, and she moved against his neck again, her lips grazing his skin as she inhaled his scent.

"Not terrible...dangerous," he corrected, his voice soft and somewhat uncertain. He tried his best not to shudder with sheer, unadulterated pleasure at the touch of her lips.

"Nothing is dangerous, when I'm with you like this," she breathed. His arms tightened around her in response. "Nothing touches us, nothing separates us..." she paused. "...Except you."

He closed his eyes; knew she spoke the truth.

"And when you allow that to occur, I feel more alone than I ever have before---as if I'd always been with you; I don't understand it," she whispered again. "But I know that I can't do this alone, Amon."

He pulled her head back, looked into her eyes as he cupped her face in his hands. "You're _not alone,_" he said firmly. As if to prove his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead. "I'm with you now," he whispered as he pulled away, following it with another kiss to her brow, lingering a second longer than the first. "And I'm not going anywhere."

She tilted her head up to him as he paused, then placed another kiss at the bridge of her nose; and yet another even lower, just below her right eye. She angled her head up further, and the next caught the corner of her lips---he quickly chased it three more times with full-lipped kisses, gradually slowing as his mouth realized it had found hers.

His hands tightened in her hair as they cradled her head, holding her closer to him, allowing him complete access to her mouth. Robin attempted to keep her breathing as normal as possible, but found it more difficult as she felt the parting of Amon's lips against hers; she gasped as his teeth gently tugged at her bottom lip, encouraging hers to do the same. His mouth was sliding against her own now, his tongue probing slowly inside, hot and sweet; she felt the warmth of breath exchanged between them through the nose, felt one of his arms encircling around her back, his other hand entangling itself in her hair, cradling her neck. She felt as though her entire body was dissolving.

She responded the only way she knew how---with the eagerness and rapturous enthusiasm that came with being so close to him. She kissed him back as best she could with equal fervor, taking care not to accidentally bump against his nose or crack her teeth against his in the process.

Feeling her response, Amon renewed his efforts, strengthening the demands of his kisses...blissfully absorbed in the moment he allowed himself.

_...not thinking clearly..._ The reminder was an insistent whisper in his head. He was completely disregarding his earlier concern: letting her too close to him physically, knowing the fortress around his emotions had already been breached…dreading it, he'd lingered, expecting the torment he'd felt the day before and believing his passion for her had been the cause of it.

But instead of feeling the biting tension coiled inside of him coming to a fever pitch, he felt it easing off, abating. Instead, all he felt now was the pure spiraling of desire that had manifested the instant he'd stepped into her room…_no, long before that,_ he admitted to himself, as an aside.

Perhaps this _wasn't_ going to do what he'd feared after all, he considered, reflecting briefly on the effect of intense emotions on the Craft. _All along you've been denying yourself, thinking that it would be the same for you as it was with _her_…that the person you yearned for most was the key to unlocking it…_

_Wasted time,_ Amon thought. And then he thought no more about it.

He began to slowly ease up on the ferocity of his embrace, realizing he was nearly crushing her to him, almost to the point of smothering her---although she hadn't protested. She was still breathlessly responsive, the emerald-green eyes glazed. He drew back slightly, delivering lighter kisses in an effort to withdraw his mouth from hers; her lips followed, unwilling to break the contact.

Reluctantly, he pulled back completely and rested his forehead against hers, his breathing fast and warm, their breaths mingling. His hand moved again in her hair, twining.

"Things are going to get very interesting, if we continue this," he breathed softly, his eyes open, attempting to judge her reaction despite their closeness. "I thought I should warn you."

That stubborn resolve was in her eyes again. "If you are not ready to stop, than neither am I," she whispered, as breathless as he.

A smirk threatened the corners of his lips. "I'm not the one who's naked underneath this sheet."

Robin's eyes grew wide, her already pink cheeks flushing a deeper rose---she'd momentarily forgotten just what predicament she was in, and on impulse she glanced down at her blanketed form; but upon meeting his eyes again, she recognized the look that suggested he was resisting the urge to smile, and she valiantly fought off her own modesty and embarrassment.

Amon was teasing her. She felt a flush of happiness radiating through the craving and momentary discomfort; it had been so long since he'd done so, she'd almost forgotten he could. The realization served to bolster her, as did the hint of warmth in his expression; and she leaned up again on tiptoe to gently engage their lips once more.

His resistance in ruins, Amon didn't even hesitate this time in pressing her to him, angling her head to his desire as he kissed her deeply. He felt all of her slight weight suddenly leaning into him in reply, and realizing she was unsteady on her feet---and with ulterior motives in mind---he began to guide their general movement towards the bed. Robin seemed not to notice their advance, even as he made a concerted effort not to step on the sheet that was still wound around her, until she felt the down comforter against the back of her thighs.

She looked up into his face in moderate surprise as her legs gave way beneath her, sitting on the shallow edge of the bed; lips swollen and eyes bright, still holding the sheet across her chest with a slim arm. Amon deftly shed his overcoat onto the floor, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her as he ducked his head to resume the kiss.

An inner refrain that sounded suspiciously like _she's too young_ started up in his head...he tuned it out, but pulled back slightly to look at her.

She was hesitating as she sat on the edge of the bed, almost immobile in her naïveté, her breath coming in soft, bewildered pants.

"_Amon._" The whispered sound of his name on her lips was a question, a statement...a plea.

_You know that if you do this, that you cannot undo it...that there is no going back._ His mind was made up then as he watched her; he was internally resolute.

_Just a taste._

He curled one arm behind her, the other steadying her waist, as he slid her free arm around his neck; then with one knee on the edge he leaned her backwards, pulling her with him towards the center of the canopied bed. Amazingly, the sheet she was covered in stayed in place; it would for now, remaining as a security for her, a last vestige of innocence that he would ultimately undo.

Amon was patient. To say he had had practiced the art of restraint for a long time was an understatement. _Until now,_ he rationalized.

She arranged her head in a comfortable position on her pillow as they settled themselves on the bed, her gaze never leaving him. He lay beside and partially over her, his arm underneath and propped up on his elbow, his other hand stroking her face.

Robin's heart was pounding where his arm rested against her chest. They stilled, suspended in the moment...eyes searching, speaking more in volumes to each other than their words ever could.

Amon leaned down, his face close to hers, and she parted her lips in anticipation; instead, he slowly turned and brushed her cheek with his own, rubbing as a cat might. Breathing softly against her neck, feeling her slight shiver, he turned his face to do the same to her other cheek; she sighed deeply in response, closing her eyes. He brought his face back to hers, his nose brushing against her skin along the way, inhaling her scent; rubbing the tip of his nose back and forth against her own, eliciting a small giggle and half-smile---one he felt rather than saw---and his own lips curved slightly upwards in satisfaction.

The lightning outside had subsided, the thunder yielding soft growls from a distance away; the only truly audible sound from her window now was the gentle rain, falling in hushed whispers as though to mimic the activity inside the room.

More kisses---gentle, progressively deeper, and back again---were exchanged; Amon varied the interaction, stopping entirely to pull back, then leisurely nibbling on her lips, one and then the other, studying her reactions. Her upper lip was most sensitive; a touch from his tongue caused her to part her lips wider, breathless in expectation. His hands stroked the length of her body through the sheet, slowly down her sides and around her back; he moved his mouth to her neck, kissing below her ear, tasting the skin there.

Not caring about the boots that were still on his feet, Amon angled his body against hers on the bed, shifting himself so that he straddled a slim leg underneath her sheet...careful to maintain minimal contact with her lower body using his own, although she seemed to welcome his weight on her, stretching her limbs under the sheet and aligning them with his appreciatively. Robin's body seemed to crave every bit of contact that he could give her; her hands no longer focused on holding the sheet to her, one stole up around his sinewy neck and curled into his thick hair, as his lips explored the skin beneath her jaw.

He cradled her head with his hand, kissing her mouth again softly, as he introduced his other hand into her line of sight and began stroking her ribcage with his fingertips, traveling upwards at a gentle, unhurried pace. Through the thin sheet he traced the underside of her breast, curving around it in inward spiraling motions until he came to the peak, rubbing over the nipple lightly. It hardened with his touch and she arched her back at the sensation, gasping against his mouth; he repeated the action, this time cupping her small, well-formed breast in his hand and rubbing his thumb firmly along the peak, eliciting a soft involuntary moan.

The sound she made caused the part of him that was already wanting to _want more,_ and he shifted against her in subtle frustration. _Slowly._ There was no way he was going to rush her into it, this exploration of the senses, if he could help it.

Robin felt herself dissolving under his touch and kisses, as they grew increasingly demanding and heated; she felt the delicious tension coiling in her body incrementally, building towards something that she wasn't completely aware of, but knew enough of its existence that it was inevitable. He was driving her towards it, with every movement of his lips and mouth, his hands everywhere over her at once...

She returned his kiss longingly, arching almost helplessly against his hand; her eyes bore childlike wonder, as well as something a bit darker lurking below the surface of the green stillness. She whispered his name as his mouth pulled away, with a trace of hesitation. "Amon...is this...is it all right?"

His other hand was cupping her face again. "It is only if you say it is; if not, I will stop," he answered quietly, affording her one last exit. He wanted this, badly; but he was not prepared to take what she couldn't willingly give. "Tell me what you want...do you want me to continue?" he asked, his own breath coming in soft gasps; he stilled both his breath and the movement of his fingers, as he searched her face for an answer. She nodded wordlessly, and he whispered, "I want to hear you say it, Robin."

She gazed up into his eyes; he felt her tremble beneath him. "I want..." she swallowed suddenly, "...want you to continue."

Amon descended for another kiss, tilting her chin in his hand up to meet him; her lips parted accordingly. He resumed his explorations of her body, slowly massaging...synchronizing his kisses with the movements of his fingers.

Robin felt the sheet slipping away from her form, pulled slowly aside by his gentle yet insistent touch...she shut her eyes against the thoughts that tried to invade, telling her that _it was wrong_, that she _shouldn't allow him to do this_...

But there was no monestary, no Church; there were no Scriptures here, between them, in this bed---there was no one but herself and Amon, nothing but the pleasure he afforded her, nothing but the sweetness of what he caused her to feel. She felt herself yielding to it, craving it from him, _needing_ it.

_If to do this with him means that I am in league with the Devil, then so be it_, she thought. Her brazen self-realization empowered her, and she felt a rush of bliss course through her veins, as she surrendered to it completely.

Amon's ministrations became more focused, feeling her responses briefly spark into overdrive, as though he'd touched an electric conduit within her. He began to feel as though something in the room around them had changed, with this new activity; without looking up he could sense that the room had grown somehow brighter, as though light were beginning to seep in from some location..._the moon must be out,_ he thought absently.

He resumed his attentions to her, slowly realizing he was able to hear a single word coming from her lips that vaguely resembled his name---she was chanting it, fervently, like a harsh prayer; and suddenly Amon was very aware of a strange feeling of _transference,_ of something changing, flowing from himself into her, and back again...a feedback loop of something so intoxicating, he was momentarily unable to breathe.

For still seconds, he was nearly paralyzed, yielding completely to what had taken hold of him...then it took shape, becoming sound, becoming vibration, raw energy---he heard it ringing in his ears, inhaled it into his lungs, saw it, piercing and blinding, before his eyes. He gasped, uncomprehending.

The sounds of Robin having reached her pleasure distracted him then, sufficiently...but when he lifted his head to look at her face, he was shocked to find the room filled with an unearthly light.

Surrounding their forms, as Robin writhed underneath him, was an immense cone-shaped pillar of light, bright and silver-blue, nearly blinding---reaching infinitely upwards through the ceiling of the room. Robin's eyes were shut tightly as she rode out the waves of her pleasure, and slowly it sank into his thoughts that _this was not her doing..._not completely.

Again he felt the strange paralysis, the feeling vaguely reminding him of what he had experienced as he'd observed the Maypole dance during Beltaine; something raw, something invariably ancient, yet recognizable and familiar, washing through him, flooding his veins. He looked down into Robin's face, and saw that her features had become blurred; he strained his eyes to look harder, believing they were playing tricks on him.

Instead, he saw flashes of images, as if it were a sped-up film; Robin, her head bowed, her chestnut hair loose and surrounding her, the neck of her pilgrim smock torn---dark, flowing robes---a stone tower---a tall, soaring flame, rising high above her head---_not hers._

He saw the fire rise up, devouring her, singeing her hair, melting her flesh...heard her _screaming_, a high-pitched, psychic wailing...followed by his name.

**_AMON!_** His eyes widened in uncontrollable horror.

A strong gust of wind blew the windows in her room completely open, stirring curtains, sheets and paper within, the resulting clatter shocking him out of his bizarre reverie---he turned towards them, panting in fear and astonishment, but just as suddenly the blast of air had fallen away, died out.

He turned back to her, still stunned; the light was gone, there was no vision---there was only Robin, her eyes still closed, hands on her breast, breathing heavily as she had just come down from the physical heights he'd taken her to. She opened her eyes then, the familiar green luminous lights looking at him, filled with rapture and contentment...slowly changing into concern. "_Amon?_" she whispered, gazing at his face as he still hovered above her on the bed.

He looked over at the open windows once more, his chest still rising and falling, breath labored from the horrific vision he'd encountered... he turned to face her again, his normally impassive features registering confusion and dread.

_Oh, God. I was wrong. I was _so wrong...

"Amon?" she asked again, more concerned this time, and she made a move to sit up against the bedframe, to reach out to him.

He leaned back, away from her touch; slowly he backed away from her on the bed, sliding off on his knees to the other side, onto the loft floor. He stood back, his eyes wild with fear, still breathing heavily.

She tried to move after him. "_Nani?_" she asked quickly, panic beginning to creep into her voice at the sight of the naked emotion in his eyes.

He held up a hand, motioning her to stay put. "_Yamero._" It was a firm command.

"Why, Amon?" Robin looked as though she were near tears. "...What did I do?" she whispered. He could only shake his head in confused response, not knowing how to respond.

"_Oshiete,_" she begged softly, "tell me what I did, and I won't do it anymore..." _Just please, don't leave. Don't leave me..._

He could not give her an answer, instead bending to pick up his discarded overcoat from the floor next to her bed. He turned and started quickly down the steps of the loft.

"_Amon!_" Her whisper-shout stopped him again, and despite his desire to resist, he turned, almost painfully, back to face her once more.

She was sitting up in the canopied bed, still naked, her chestnut hair tousled...amidst the white sheets and comforters she looked ethereal; an otherworldly, rumpled temptress. A goddess.

Every bit the Eve, tempting him with the fruit she possessed.

"Deadbolt your door behind me," he ordered sternly, his expression dark. He strode towards the door of her suite, and threw one last comment over his shoulder. "And lock your windows."

He left, not looking back. The door to her suite slammed shut in his wake, and she fell back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes empty; whispering his name once more to the now still room.

xXx

Having made it upstairs to his room without detection---despite the fact that there was still ambient noise in the Coven's dining area---Amon entered his suite, throwing his overcoat on the floor, shutting and locking his door behind him. He sank against it, his breathing labored, sweat having appeared on his brow.

_Stupid. So fucking **stupid.** You thought you could get away with doing that, to her...?_ In a pang of desperation, he ran his hands through his dark hair; only belatedly realizing that the fingers of his right hand still smelled of _her_---as did his face, when he touched it. She was all around him---she had permeated his skin with her very essence.

He headed for his shower, intending to wash away all traces of her scent, thoroughly.

As he passed his desk, he neglected to notice the blinking mail icon on his laptop monitor.

xXx

Nearly an hour later, there was a knock at the door of his suite. "Amon," a male voice asked, whom he recognized as one of the male Coven members, "_lei sveglio è?_"

Amon was redressed, his hair still damp. "_Si._" He answered the door to find Gideon standing before him, clad in a dark blue robe...similar to what the Coven had worn in the first ritual he and Robin had witnessed, a week earlier.

He felt dread creep back into his chest.

Gideon gave a short bow of his head, and spoke quietly. "Is for Sela..._rito de lugubre,_" he explained solemnly, meeting Amon's concerned gaze. "You have heard?"

He nodded, his eyes becoming serious. "_Si._"

Gideon motioned for him to come along. "_Avanti._"

Amon followed him somewhat reluctantly downstairs, down the hallway, towards the meeting room where the Coven had gathered. Gideon slowly opened the doors, revealing the pitch darkness that was indicative of the Witches' ritual being performed. He guided Amon inside.

After his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the Coven standing at the opposite end of the room, all dressed in the appropriate dark blue robes. All were present, excluding Noa and Leor, who were still away, and Sela, obviously---but to his surprise, Robin stood amidst the Coven members, in her high-necked pilgrim's dress, her long hair down about her shoulders..._still looking sufficiently rumpled..._ He ignored the brief spike of lust at seeing her again so soon after... _fuck._

She was looking at him, her expression forcibly neutral, but with a hint of sadness. He looked away at another section of the room, making a concerted effort not to meet her eyes.

Seth stepped forward, carrying in his hand a sifting device full of a grainy white substance. "_È tempo,_" he said, his voice low and hushed. He traversed the room in a circle, walking _deosil,_ using the sifter to spread fine white sugar on the ground, effectively casting the circle. After three rounds, he stopped and stood inside the ring. "_Entrari,_" he said quietly.

The Coven members came, two at a time, consecrating themselves with the water provided. Amon watched surreptitiously as Gal and Robin blessed each other and entered the circle. He was paired with Hedya.

After all had joined the circle, Seth began to speak. "As Witches, we seek to strengthen our bodies, minds, and souls. Our souls are ageless, sexless, non-physical; possessed of the divine spark of the Goddess and God. After the body dies, the soul lives on. We journey to the Summerlands, the Land of Eternal Summer, to review our past lives and wait for loved ones, and to await Rebirth. Once it is time, the soul is reincarnated on Earth, and life begins again."

He spoke at length of Sela, of her background, and how she had come to join the Coven. Amon noticed that several of the members looked solemn during the speech; a few of them shed tears. The acceptance of Sela's death was difficult.

When it seemed as though the rite was finally winding down, and Amon was preparing for its closing---having successfully evaded Robin's despondent glances---Seth turned to the young chestnut-haired Witch, motioning to her. "_Tesoro...avanti._"

Robin rose gracefully from where she had been seated, and went to the center of the circle. Ice solidified down the length of his spine---Amon felt the tension in his body mounting, suspecting the worst; a repeat performance of the first ritual they'd witnessed between Seth and Noa.

He turned to Seth, regarding the male Witch with stern suspicion. "_Cosa succede?_" he demanded, and Seth smiled benevolently.

"I have decided to utilize our powers within the Sacred Circle to benefit Robin tonight," he said smoothly. "The loss of her Craft is a dire prospect---as you yourself know, being her _warden,_" he pointed out, putting a strangely perverse emphasis on the words he directed towards Amon, almost in a baiting tone . "If we can raise enough power within our Circle to strengthen her, all the better."

Amon looked unbelievingly at Robin, who had seated herself in the middle of the circle; she met his eyes, feeling his upon her. "And you agreed to this?" he asked her, quietly.

She nodded slowly, fixing him with her gaze. "_Si._" She looked as though she wanted to say more to him, but she held herself back in the presence of the Coven.

"It is tradition that we normally perform such a power-raising ritual _skyclad_, in the nude, often with certain..._stimulatory activities,_" Seth went on, the corners of his lips forming a smirk as he observed Amon, "but seeing as some members such as yourselves are _not comfortable_ with the idea of such ritualistic practices, we are more than happy to represent those activities symbolically instead of literally."

While he spoke, Amon focused on Robin, holding her with his gaze. He saw the conflicted torment in her young eyes, the direct result of the pain he'd just inflicted on her...

God, he was a monster.

_Why couldn't you have just fucking left her alone?_ he asked himself. _Because of hormones? Because of some misguided sense of affection? **You** are ultimately responsible for the inevitable loss of your control...**she** is nothing but an innocent, caught in the pathetic tangle of your lies and self-deceit._

He felt himself making the all-too-familiar painful break in his mind, as he slowly reconstructed the walls she'd torn down inside of him...hating himself the all the while as he did so.

"This is actually a perfect night for it," Seth was saying. "There is a tangible power in the air; I can almost taste it..."

Amon stood. "I want out of the Circle." He ignored the flash of hurt that he witnessed on her face, out of the corner of his eye.

Seth appeared to sigh reluctantly, before giving a faint nod in Gideon's direction. Gideon walked Amon through the Circle-exiting ritual, walking _widdershins_ around it, before he was allowed to exit; he felt Robin's eyes following him the entire time in the counter-clockwise direction.

Upon leaving the ritual, he headed upstairs to his suite; he found Bast waiting for him, pacing before the door and meowing plaintively. He let her inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

He went to the desk, glancing at his laptop computer, on which an enveloped icon signifying an unread message blinked continuously.

Amon stared at it for long moments, before closing the laptop and shutting it down, unplugging it and putting it away, in his travel bag...his facial features set in grim lines of determination.

xXx

Robin closed her eyes.

She attempted to focus as Seth verbally set up the ritual, to aid the power-raising ceremony as best she could. _After all, it is the only way I can salvage what is left of my power, the strength of my Craft._

She tried not to think about Amon, about what had transpired between them just an hour earlier, in her bed. She tried to keep her mind clear, free of negativity, free of the nagging and persisting doubts...free of corporeal distractions.

But her body still thrummed pleasantly, warmth pooling from her very core; a direct result of the physical and psychological summit he had recently brought her to, with his mouth and fingers and touch.

_It is difficult._

"Visualize the Cone in your minds," Seth was instructing, his voice melodically hypnotizing in the dark room. Members of the Coven sat in the circle, their eyes closed in anticipation of beginning the ritual. "The Sacred Circle is the bottom of it. We, within the Circle, produce the power which rises to the Apex, which extends to Infinity."

Their soft chanting began, slow and gentle in the beginning; gradually, incrementally, increasing in both volume and intensity.

Inbetween the softly-spoken words that she heard all around her, Robin detected the sounds of breathing patterns falling into sync, as the Coven built resonance with one another. She focused on that rather than the spoken verbalizations, listening raptly to the intakes and exhales of breath...the slowly escalating cycles of gasps...the slight breathing moans that accompanied the rhythmic chanting and breath exercises.

Losing herself in the rhythm of it, she let the memory take over her.

_His cheek brushing against mine, slowly and purposefully...his breath on my neck...warmth and heat of it._ Against the backdrop of chanting, she could almost feel his achingly gentle touch once almost detect the spicy scent of his skin as she had an hour ago. Robin frowned lightly in concentration, expelling a soft sigh.

_Now he is kissing me...he presses his lips against mine, opening them with his tongue, soft and wet...I don't want to resist. His mouth tastes wonderful, like...like dark wine and fine-ground espresso._ Her lips parted, almost subconsciously.

_Now he is touching me..._ Robin felt her breath's tempo increase, subconsciously driven by the escalating intensity of the chanting around her. The Coven's mantra had begun to reach a feverish tone, spiraling upward...but it was the memory of his lips and hands that drove her now towards passion.

The crescendo of voices deepened, soared, rising exponentially...to culminate in a single, shuddering, climactic peak. Robin opened her eyes at its pinnacle.

The altar at the end of the room burst into brilliant gold flame.

From his position in the Circle, Seth smiled enigmatically.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Next chapter:

Unveiling the Arcanum... The fall...One final attempt. The Hunter searches for answers as darkness enshrouds the solitary moon. Chapter 16.

* * *

Kuso: Japanese shit Iie: Japanese no  
Naze: Japanese Why/Why are you doing that?  
Non lo so: I don't know  
Nan da to: Japanese What do you mean by that?  
Nani: Japanese What is it?  
Yamero: Japanese stop  
Oshiete: Japanese tell me  
Lei sveglio è: are you awake?  
Si: yes  
rito de lugubre: funereal rite  
avanti: come along, come forward  
è tempo: it is time  
deosil: clockwise  
entrari: enter  
tesoro: treasure, "darling"  
cosa succede: what's going on?

* * *

**A/N**: A big thank you to Cassiline, who through email and livejournal, was able to successfully pursuade me to update. As gratitude towards her, please go read her WHR fanfic, "Last Relic"---one of the more unique takes on the WHR universe that I've seen in a while. Yay!

As mentioned at the beginning of the fic, this is the watered-down, edited version...if you feel like being bold, go check out what The Renewal has in store. -wink-


	17. Chapter 16: Arcanum

**A/N:** Back again! I apologize to the Harry's-goers whom I told I'd have the chapter ready sooner; but one month is better than two months, right-grin-

We're getting into some of the nitty-gritty here...the plot is starting to unfurl in some strange ways, and all I can suggest is...to read with an ever-increasing open mind. -;;;

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Witch Hunter Robin. I only wish a second season had in fact been made; perhaps if it had, I'd be able to 'let go' of my obsession with post-series happenings a bit easier. As it is, I am still—after over a year and two months of having seen the series—eating, breathing, and drinking WHR. Such is life.

Hobie, hope you're happy—I managed to slip Seneca in there when I had a chance. XDDD Heee!

* * *

**The Burning Time **

**Chapter 16: Arcanum**

* * *

xXx

* * *

She closed the door firmly behind her as she entered her suite. The room had remained as dark as it had been when she'd left, prior to the Coven's meeting; only a small dim table lamp illuminating, the corners still in shadows. Her eyes were automatically drawn there, to that same dark, hidden place from which he'd emerged after having watched her earlier that same night. 

Robin paused momentarily at the inside of the door, silently contemplating the locks, before slipping the deadbolt into a secure position at the doorframe. He had told her to do so, anyway.

She considered her room, turning around to view it in the dimness; her trench coat still on the floor, her bed still unmade, the covers rumpled as they were just a couple of hours before...

…_flash of his body over hers…_

Resting on the dresser, beside her loft-raised bed, sat the familiar pair of half-moon spectacles…bought for her by her warden, for the sole purpose of improving the aim of her Craft. They sat unused, gathering dust.

_The altar had lit with exact precision and speed, inside the Circle..._

Robin approached the dresser, ascending the stairs to her loft in her slow, dream-like manner; her pilgrim's dress whispering across the floor. She stopped in front of the chest of drawers, gazing at the spectacles for a moment before taking them in hand.

She ran her fingers over the slightly dusty frames, across the lenses. She recalled her doctor's appointment, so many months ago, arranged and scheduled by none other than her warden himself. Driving back to Raven's Flat in his Audi, Amon had grudgingly complained that they had wasted three hours for a meaningless examination.

_There had been nothing wrong with my eyes._

Holding them to her face at eye-level, Robin looked through the half-moon lenses. There was no difference in the clarity of the room around her, through the glasses—nothing seemed sharper, or brighter, or more focused. She had been subconsciously aware of it all along, but had always assumed that the spectacles somehow enhanced her vision as she'd used her Craft; Amon had suggested it himself, as a means to explain how they had seemed to improve the accuracy of her flame.

She lowered them, allowing her eyes to drift to the other end of the room. On a small wooden desk, a lone candle stood on a polished brass tray, under glass; an antique hurricane lamp. As she set her eyes upon it, a spark appeared in the emerald depths.

The candlewick ignited instantaneously, with perfect precision.

She looked down again at her hands, at the unused glasses resting in them. _They have not assisted me in the Hunts I have participated in with Seth…but I had not needed them when protecting Amon before that._ And now she had successfully lit the altar downstairs, without their aid - after an entire week of having felt her Craft slipping from her, wasting away, even when she'd tried to use them.

Robin held the spectacles against the chest of her pilgrim's smock, her eyes desolate. _Amon. Even now, I still do not understand my own body..._ She was aware of additional feelings, new and yet familiar, coursing through her like lightning at the mere thought of his name; and her hands tightened around the glasses in her hands.

Was it wrong to want him now, as she did? Wrong to wish he were with her, in her bed again…kissing and touching her, as he had done? She had convinced herself that it was not sinful; but was that her heart, or her body that had insisted so?

And Sela…Sela was in the ground, and here she had been enjoying Amon in her bed. It was incredibly disrespectful, to have allowed such a thing to happen, so soon after such a tragedy—

_But wasn't it a reaffirmation of your own life?_ her conscience asked, and she tightened her hands around the spectacles again in confusion.

_Devil's Child...Akuma no ko._ Selfish thoughts had made her recall the name given to her by the dying SOLOMON researcher.

_I still do not understand anything, at all._

xXx

Hours later, well into the middle of the night, Amon still refused to sleep.

He'd survived on even less before; years of SOLOMON training had hardened him in that respect. Beyond the primary investigative requisites, he'd had extensive military instruction. He was certain that if their situation had called for it, he would have been more than able to get by on little to no sleep per night, rationed food, minimal water; and still remain watchful, strong, alert to the presence of danger. _Hunters must be able to endure the greatest hardships._

And yet, ironically, he felt weaker now, more vulnerable—with ample food, shelter, and sleep—than he'd ever remembered being.

_Not weaker...less in control._ He realized that he still closely associated the two; perhaps too closely.

He was reading Vincenzo's pamphlets again, scouring the detailed notes from Mario Benedetto with fervent scrutiny. He pored over them, checking and cross-checking references, immersing himself totally and completely in the writings. Amon thought perhaps if he were diligent enough, if he paid careful enough attention, the fragments of Benedetto's experiments he'd already read would begin to make more sense to him.

And all the while, he was tensely aware of the unsettling fact that his renewed interest in the scientist's notes was the _only thing keeping him from going to her_ at that moment; it was all he could do to keep from breaking into her room once more, waking her from her slumber, tearing the sheets away from her naked body and finishing what he'd started earlier.

In spite of the fear he'd felt upon experiencing the vision in her room, he felt the force of his attraction had grown stronger. He envisioned going to her room; he wanted to see Robin's expression as she witnessed him entering her suite again in a fluid rush, wanted to see the surprise and apprehension in her delicate features dissolve luxuriously into need and desire, as he came to her, half-crazed with want…wanted to at once be all around her, this time feeling his own skin against hers, over her, underneath her..._inside of her_…

The compulsion was almost overpowering, and it dawned on him that he could suddenly recall her scent, as he thought of her—could taste her in his mouth—feel her skin again beneath his hands—

_Jesus…_ Amon blinked forcefully, running a hand over his face and shifting in his seat, focusing again on the page before him. He grappled blindly with his control; having thought he had successfully strengthened his defenses against her in the ritual Circle before he'd left, he now realized that he desperately needed to distract himself.

_It is easier to exclude harmful passions than to rule them, and to deny them admittance than to control them after they have been admitted._ Of course _now,_ after the fact, he was remembering his philosophical discourses on the benefits of stoicism - a core part of his education under the organization's curriculum, in which he had excelled in his youth. Amon had the distinct impression that his recollection of Seneca's advice would have been of much greater value to him a few hours earlier.

Indeed, such passions were harmful things. If it had been anyone other than Robin, such actions would merely be release; but because it was her, because he had seen into her heart, because she had endeared herself to him as no one else had...he had allowed the innermost part of him to slip. _And you won't make the same mistake again...no matter how badly you want it._

He put his nose to the grindstone again, churlishly forcing his eyes to the page. _Keep reading._ Benedetto's notes had succeeded in putting him to sleep, before; he had every confidence now that they'd provide much-needed diversion.

_Discovered nearly sixty years ago, the Dead Sea Scrolls from Qumran and the Nag Hammadi writings from Upper Egypt did not come into our hands easily. The Catholic organization that was SOLOMON's predecessor at the time had done their best to prevent and suppress the distribution of the scrolls to international scholars throughout the world. Through discretion and subterfuge we were able to acquire copies of these works, which supplied us with a good amount of the mythos that we had been searching for, most of which had been buried and/or destroyed following the first few centuries A.D.. The writings are proof, in our eyes, of the shared heritage between the suppressed Egyptian and early Essene/Christian belief systems - as well as the necessary clues we needed to perform and carry out our research. _

_Fundamental in our tasks put to us by the organization was to shed light on the Arcanum of the Craft, also known as the 'Arcanum Arcanorum', the 'Secret of Secrets'-the wisdom sought by SOLOMON that had once been known to them, in the organization's various past forms, but had become lost over millennia. This was an insurmountable mission, it seemed; as no official records have ever been kept by the organization in its multitudinous forms over time of what exactly the Arcanum **is**, and the only undeviating information gathered on it being the 'Rising Sun' motif explained in an earlier chapter. But, I believe we are closer now to knowing what it is than we ever have been before. _

_In our quest for the truth regarding the origin of Witches, my colleagues and I have uncovered evidence of many things lost to humanity over time; the Arcanum is only one such example of this. If we are to allow the natural evolution of our species once more - the inevitable changes that have been, are, and will be occurring - these lost bits of knowledge **must** be re-discovered, for ourselves and for our children. Egypt's past is the key. _

It was easy enough for Amon to grasp that what made Benedetto's work exceptional from Toudou's, revolved around the fact that he had used Egyptian DNA—a rather significant amount of it—in Amon's genetic engineering. He had to admit that it explained some things quite well, such as why his features were not solely Japanese, despite being born to two Japanese parents; his height, unusual for Japanese standards; and why he barely resembled his own half-brother, Nagira.

But what he didn't understand was _why_ Egyptian genes were used, and to whom such DNA had belonged…and what it had to do with Robin and Toudou's project. He had yet to find exact wording in Benedetto's notes that would answer those questions to his satisfaction.

He continued reading, coming to a section devoted to notes pertaining specifically to the Arcanum, according to the header.

_It is perhaps the most sacred object mentioned in the Bible - said to contain the stone tablets upon which the Ten Commandments were inscribed by the finger of God. It was believed to be the literal manifestation of God on Earth. But the Ark of the Covenant is also one of the most frightening artifacts described in all of biblical history. A golden box with the power to strike men dead, to the ancient Hebrews the Ark was both a divine manifestation and a talisman so powerful that they carried it with them into battle - a weapon of God. To their enemies, it was a treasure to be coveted - but once captured, a terrible punishment. It came to occupy the most revered spot in Jerusalem, the Holy of Holies at the Temple of Solomon, and then, six centuries before the birth of Christ, it mysteriously disappeared. _

Arcanum. Arcanum...something in Amon's brain was clicking on, and he began to recall his elementary Latin tutelage, taught to him as a teenager during the rigorous early years of his European SOLOMON training, before he was sent back to Japan to work with Zaizen. _Arcanum_ in Latin meant 'secret, mystery'… probably a substantive use of the neutered form of _arcānus_, which meant 'shut up, secret'. Related to the verb _arcēre_, 'to enclose, keep away, ward off', _arcānus_ also originally meant 'enclosed in a chest'…

…which was from _arca_, 'chest, coffin'. Arca. _Ark._

_...The Arcanum of the Craft is the same as the biblical Ark of the Covenant?…_It seemed farfetched at first; but given the fact that the Ark was a Hebrew relic from the Old Testament, and therefore of utmost importance to the Church, as was the 'Arcanum'...

_Notably, the Egyptians also had portable shrines in the shape of boats that were very similar to the Ark of the Covenant used by the Israelites. These arks became extremely popular by the New Kingdom when Moses would have been in Egypt. The New Kingdom saw a greater attention to the aspects of both the hidden and revealed in temple worship; the most holy was kept sacred by keeping it hidden, while the adoration of the masses was acquired through the use of the revealed. To accommodate these two conflicting ideals the Egyptians kept their most holy inner sanctuary hidden, while placing within it a sacred bark. Upon either side of the statue of the deity sat winged protectors facing the 'mercy seat', where the God sat, much like the Cherubim on the Israelite Ark of the Covenant. Egyptians kept sacred portable shrines in the innermost sanctuaries of the temples. The focus upon these portable sanctuaries is one of the distinguishing features of New Kingdom temple design. The fixed statues from the Middle Kingdom still existed in the Egyptian temples, but they now took a secondary place..._ Here, some words were illegibly rubbed out.

_The 'Holy of Holies' in Solomon's Temple, where the Ark rested, was a place of 'thick darkness' according to the Bible. Talmudic sources recorded, however, that: 'The High Priest of Israel entered and left by the light that the Holy Ark issued forth' - a convenient state of affairs that changed after the relic disappeared. From then on the Priest 'groped his way in the dark'. The Ark, therefore, was a source of paranormal lambency: a dazzling radiance was emitted by it - as numerous biblical passages confirmed (Exodus 40:20-38). In a similar fashion it sent out radiance 'so great that candles lost their brilliance just as the stars do at the rising of the sun or moon'. It was as though it were **impregnated with a fiery celestial energy**. _

_Curiously, most are unaware that this Divine Fire, evidenced by the Ark and the Burning Bush, was known as a **feminine** component of the deity in biblical times. This feminine Glory of God is the consort of Yahweh; She is the goddess consort of the king, seen as a visible cloud overshadowing or hovering over the Ark of the Covenant (Exodus 40:34-…_ Again, more words were scratched out.

_To the Israelites, the Ark was a symbol of_—_and a vehicle for_—_God's almighty power. The Bible describes the Ark's power at the conquering of Jericho. When the Israelites hold it before them and sound their rams' horns, the city walls are blown over and Jericho is easily taken. _

_Many biblical accounts of the Ark seem almost to be describing a **weapon of war**. To march into battle bearing the Ark of the Covenant was to be undefeated. _

Feminine. A weapon of war. _Impregnated with a fiery celestial energy._

Even as his blood began to run colder, feeling as though icy water were seeping into his spine, Amon could still hear his brother's smart-mouthed, sarcastic query in his head. _Sound like someone you know, buddy?_

It was too much of a coincidence - they had to be referring symbolically to her. They were speaking ten years in advance of the end result of Toudou's project.

_Robin._

Was this the evidence that SOLOMON had been searching for all along? Was Benedetto insinuating that the scriptures' references of the Ark of the Covenant were hints describing what SOLOMON had been in search of—what would later become Toudou's greatest life's work?

Did it mean that _Robin, herself, was the Arcanum?_ If so, it gave him new reason to believe she was in more danger from them than he'd previously surmised.

Amon had not studied much regarding the Arcanum; he'd only before seen vague references in SOLOMON textbooks, something about an 'ultimate technique' of Witchcraft...something about knowledge, wisdom. Never anything to suggest it was actually a beautiful, demure, teenaged pyrokinetic who wore her hair in a manner that startlingly resembled handlebars, who whispered when she spoke, who slept in the nude...who, in her infuriatingly blissful ignorance, radiated such magnetic sensuality that made it almost impossible to discount her.

_You're doing it again._ This time it was his own surly voice speaking to him in his head, and his jaw tightened in response to the thought.

On a level beyond "fiery female energy", the symbolic association made sense. Toudou had talked about Robin being the "Eve" of a new race of Witches, a "vessel", given her supposed ability to confer her genes to offspring; much like the Ark was the "vessel" of God. Additionally, the possibility that Robin was susceptible to being manipulated, as a weapon of war, had already crossed his mind more than once. By whom she would potentially be manipulated was less apparent. Seth? Although the male Witch was adamant in hunting members of SOLOMON, Amon doubted that Seth's motives went beyond utilizing Robin's basic fire Craft for use in such instances. Seth seemed genuinely concerned about her well-being; and despite his own feelings, he could not distrust based on jealousy alone.

As stunned by the new information he'd uncovered as he was, Amon still failed to see the connection to the work that had generated his own existence. If Benedetto's main project had been designing this "army of Craft-Users" for SOLOMON's purposes, why was he so attentive to Biblical and mythological lore, about the Arcanum…?

Unless, he rationalized, the Arcanum is _so powerful_, that to prevent it from falling into the hands of anyone other than the organization— particularly Witches who were not under their control—SOLOMON would go to any lengths possible. It wasn't so implausible to believe this included the manufacture of an army of their own, to hunt down and eliminate the threat; or, at the very least, prepare for it.

He had been meant to be part of that army; that much he had taken away from their brief meeting with Vincenzo. If Amon's Craft had awoken in a timely enough fashion, as the older man had insinuated SOLOMON would have preferred, perhaps it would have been _he_ who would have been hunting for the Arcanum, instead of…

Something else dawned on him. _Juliano had sent **Robin** to find the Arcanum of the Craft…_he had sent a fifteen-year-old-girl—_his own granddaughter_—to the far-off 'Land of the Rising Sun' designated by this ancient SOLOMON prophecy, to find one of the most important artifacts in the organization's entire history.

Had this really been SOLOMON's agenda? Or simply _Juliano's?_

This meant one of two things. It was possible that Juliano had indeed only distrusted her, as he had admitted at Raven's Flat, and simply given her the task of finding the Arcanum to elucidate her fidelity to SOLOMON. He had already confessed to harboring the knowledge that she was Toudou's terminated project; and he'd tested her, under the guise of Masuda's Inquisition, using Cortion as an unwitting accomplice.

The other possibility was that he had known all along of the inner workings of both scientists' research, and their focus on the Arcanum— an unlikely prospect, given that the priest hadn't even been in possession of Benedetto's journal, much less Toudou's video data—and had been aware that Robin was potentially the 'Secret of Secrets' herself.

If the latter were true, what would that mean about Juliano's objective towards her? Either he was completely ignorant of it, or he had been playing something of a very sick joke by sending her after the fallacious artifact.

Amon sighed to himself, raking his long fingers through his dark hair. It was still difficult to know just how much Juliano knew, or to what extent he was trustworthy. He'd confronted Juliano in Rome, face-to-face, after the attack on Raven's Flat; but even then he had not been able to completely illuminate the priest's true intentions. Jana had also attempted to reassure him that the Master Hunter deserved their confidence during their last visit to her house, but Amon hadn't bought her explanation entirely. The old man seemed enshrouded in secrecy; Amon wondered what exactly it would take to ascertain which side he was on.

The next section of notes pertaining to the Secret sounded particularly embittered:

_We came to the realization, in the midst of the work we were doing, that the Arcanum Arcanorum is in fact being sought after by SOLOMON not because they want so much to find it and use it...**but because they wish to suppress it.** Like everything else regarding the succession of Witches - or **gods**, as we should refer to them - SOLOMON seeks to bury it, to hide it away and prevent it from happening. Fear, hatred, and jealousy rule them...and in turn, they use these same human emotions to rule those under them. It is as if they believe that pulling the wool over the world's eyes, as they have done for thousands of years, will continue to ensure their control -_

Here the notes were illegible again, scribbled out as though the speaker's thought process was interrupted mid-sentence; it was as though the speaker were suddenly and hurriedly changing the direction of his deliberation. As Amon read on, a new analysis began to emerge:

_The great arcanum - that is to say, the Arcanum Arcanorum, and the Holy of Holies wherein the Sacred Ark rests inviolate - is the absolute knowledge of good and of evil.  
"When you have eaten the fruit of this tree, you will be as the gods," said the Serpent.  
"If you eat of it, you will die," replied Divine Wisdom.  
Thus good and evil bear fruit on one same tree, and from one same root.  
Good personified is God.  
Evil personified is the Devil.  
To know the secret or the formula of God is to be God.  
To know the secret or the formula of the Devil is to be the Devil.  
To wish to be at the same time God and Devil is to absorb in oneself the most absolute antinomy, the two most strained contrary forces; it is the wish to shut up in oneself an infinite antagonism. _

God and Devil at the same time..._what kind of nonsense is this?_ he wondered.

_It is to drink a poison which would extinguish the suns and consume the worlds.  
It is to devote oneself to the promptest and most terrible of all deaths.  
Woe to him who wishes to know too much! For if excessive and rash knowledge does not kill him it will make him mad.  
To eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, is to associate evil with good, and assimilate the one to the other.  
It is to cover the radiant countenance of Osiris with the mask of Typhon.  
It is to raise the sacred veil of Isis; it is to profane the sanctuary.  
The rash man who dares to look at the sun without protection becomes blind, and from that moment for him the sun is black.  
We are forbidden to say more on this subject; we shall conclude our revelation by the figure of three pentacles.  
These three stars will explain it sufficiently. By reuniting the four, one may arrive at the understanding of the Great Arcanum Arcanorum. In the centre of the ring may be perceived the double triangle forming the Star or Seal of Solomon, the talisman of Saturn. - . It is actually the religious and metaphysical symbol analogous to the Ad- Ka_—

...The words, as well as the remainder of the notes for that section, were again scratched out.

There was a drawing, however, which Amon immediately recognized as the Seal of Solomon - the six-pointed star that was one of the primary symbols of the organization. Believed to have been the symbol of the biblical King Solomon himself, it adorned - somewhat inconspicuously - the doorways of several SOLOMON-run legislative buildings. Of course it seemed perfectly natural, given the name of the organization, and its Judeo-Christian background, to harbor such an emblem...but the mention of it in the writing startled him. When had it ever been referred to as the _talisman of Saturn?_

The notes seemed to be making progressively less sense to him. _God and Devil at the same time...we are forbidden to say more on the subject..._ It sounded like an introduction to a ridiculous conspiracy.

_Then again,_ his mind prompted him, _so did Toudou's video excerpts sound to Zaizen's ears._ Despite his inherent skepticism, Amon decided he would not be so foolish as to disregard Benedetto's work now; the mentions of his mother's name in the experiments—as well as the fact that the elder scientist had inspired Toudou—were blatant evidence of truth that he couldn't ignore.

Another glance at the notes before him revealed a drawing similar to one he had seen before, a man with long, twisting horns; although this time the caricature was more man than ram, seated, holding a serpent in one hand and in the other a circlet of some type of metal. The handwriting after the picture was more hurried now, the writing sloppier; as though whoever was writing it had suddenly realized their time was limited.

He read on.

**The Nag Hammadi scrolls gave us ample evidence of some of the attributes of what we were attempting to bequeath:**

_Names given to the worldly are very deceptive, for they divert our thoughts from what is correct to what is incorrect. Thus one who hears the word "God" does not perceive what is correct, but perceives what is incorrect. So also with "the Father" and "the Son" and "the Holy Spirit" and "life" and "light" and "resurrection" and "the Church" and all the rest - people do not perceive what is correct but they perceive what is incorrect, unless they have come to know what is correct. The names which are heard are in the world, deceive. _

_Lux e tenebris lucet _

_He is immeasurable light, which is pure, holy and immaculate. He is ineffable, being perfect in incorruptibility. He is not in perfection, nor in blessedness, nor in divinity, but he is far superior. He is not corporeal nor is he incorporeal. He is neither large nor is he small. There is no way to say, 'What is his quantity?' or, 'What is his quality?', for no one can know him. He is not someone among other beings, rather he is far superior. _

_For the perfection is majestic. He is pure, immeasurable mind. He is life-giving life. He is knowledge-giving knowledge. He is mercy and redemption-giving mercy. He is grace-giving grace, not because he possesses it, but because he gives the immeasurable, incomprehensible light. Images are visible to people, but the light within them is hidden in the image of the Father's light. He will be disclosed, but his image is hidden by his light. _

_The powers do not see those who are clothed in the perfect light, and consequently are not able to detain them. One will clothe himself in this light sacramentally in the union. _

A lot of time had passed between writings; the dates for further entries corresponded to seven or eight years later than the initial notes that had begun the journal. _That was approximately when Toudou began his own research, on Project Robin._

He looked carefully at the written date again. _You were seven years old, when this was written. You were - _

_My God. That's when it happened._ His blood felt suddenly chilled.

Several lines had been underlined heavily...as though to make the reader aware that they were of the utmost importance.

_...And his thought performed a deed and she came forth, namely she who had appeared before him in the shine of his light. This is the first power which was before all of them and which came forth from his mind, She is the forethought of the All - her light shines like his light - the perfect power which is the image of the invisible, virginal Spirit who is perfect. The first power, she glorified the virginal Spirit and it was she who praised him, because thanks to him she had come forth. This is the first thought, his image; she became the womb of everything, for it is she who is prior to them all, the Mother, the Holy Spirit, the thrice-powerful, the thrice-named...she who has been exiled from the Garden, has shared this fate with humanity, and will not return until the time of the Messiah. _

_When She was still with Him, death did not exist. When she was separated from him, death came into being. If he enters again and attains his former self, death will be no more. _

_She calls to him, as he is in his somnolent state; her liberating voice arouses him to awaken. 'He who hears, let him get up from the deep sleep.' When he listens, he weeps bitter tears...and remembers...and understands. Only this way is he able to arise. _

The next part was barely readable, due to scratched-out words and abrasions:

_We have done all we can, given the circumstances. We have given him life; we have corrected the inherent Pi mutation. His potential is complete. _

_If he brings forth what is within him, what he has will save him. If he doesn't, it will kill him...or **they** will. _

_We now have a better understanding of why his awakening is slow to progress; it was an oversight on our parts. However, I don't foresee having the time nor the resources to supplement the project with another one...I will leave that to my successor. I have the utmost faith in his abilities. _

_All is not lost. Hope has survived, as evident by the quotes - from a secretive order who had preserved the belief of la vecchia religione, belief in **him** - that I will end these notes with: _

"_I am the great god that sits upon a throne of white marble. Dark as the night are my eyes, but brilliant as sun-illuminated snowfields. My horns are of pure obsidian, trimmed in scarlet; in their tips, the honey of gnosis. My tail points to the snake's nose. My phallus is ever erect, for my I am forever united with the Lady of Dreams in a kiss. My feet are solid upon the earth, my horns pierce the clouds. I am the god to which the throne of Ra was given, I am the glorious one, Messiah named by some, by others BA-HO-T _(part of the word was crossed out/erased),_ but **Satan** by the masses." _

_May we be able to correct the mistakes made by our forefathers. May we continue to strive to better ourselves, as well as our understanding of what we can become. _

_Uomo è Dio facendolo. _

_-Dott. Mario Benedetto  
Primo Direttore della Biologia Molecolare  
FZ Genetics_

The last page of the journal was signed along with the month, day, and year. It was the same year during which Toudou supposedly started the infamous Project Devil's Child; the same year that Amon had been seven years old; the same year his mother Matoko had awoken as a Witch and lost control of her powers, murdering several SOLOMON agents without provocation.

He reread the last quote. _...Satan by the masses..._ Amon suddenly saw before his eyes the picture of the snake eating its tail, forming a circle; and Robin's face, as she'd reacted to it, paled and whispering. He thought again of the picture of the man-god with horns, with the head of a ram.

_Devil. Evil. _

_Is this what I have been designed to be? Was this Benedetto's true intention? _

He recalled Seth's casually spoken words a week ago over breakfast..._il demonio was supposed to have been found in Japan..._

Oh, God. _What in the hell am I?_

Again he saw Matoko, as he had that day, in the entryway of their home; he was young, so young, and could barely recall the details - but they were slowly coming into focus, becoming clearer. The man's hand on his arm...his mother's tears...his innocent confusion. _Why is she crying? I have gone with these men before._

Time seemed to flash forward; before he could form a thought, she was screaming something in Japanese...he couldn't hear the words, inundated as he was in the commotion that happened next; but nevertheless he knew that it was _she_ who was directing what was happening to the men around him. She was killing them.

This wasn't his mother doing this, wasn't the kind and gentle nurturer who had cared for him...this was someone else, someone terrifying - someone out of control.

She was still screaming, at him and at them; the terrible stench of blood and gore, as the men's flesh literally melted from their bones, filled his nostrils—and he began to scream, himself.

"_Okaasan! Yamero!_" he yelled, his gray eyes wide with fear, trembling in the man's grip. Horror washed through him as he realized, by the adult voice screaming in his ear and the warm fluid on his arm, that the man holding him had also liquefied, his very flesh disintegrating. He screamed again, and again.

_yamero...yamero!...YAMERO_—

Suddenly a loud _crack_ interrupted the turmoil...and Matoko stopped screaming.

She staggered, a rune bullet lodged in her shoulder; and paused, listing slightly and panting, as she looked down at her injury with something resembling dazed curiosity. Amon was frozen where he stood, his screams also having ceased; he was unable to make a sound as he watched, mouth agape in shock.

She barely had time to shape a word, before Amon heard a sound with which he would become devastatingly familiar over the next twenty years—the metallic _snap-crunch_ of a semi-automatic weapon loading. Several of them.

The hail of fire that followed was like thunder, deafening in the small entryway, to a small boy. He saw his mother's body flailing in the barrage, like a puppet tossed about wildly with its strings cut - her blood was spattered on the wall behind her, on the adjacent walls next to her, on the ceiling above her…on himself.

His own mother mowed down before his very eyes, a distraught seven-year-old Amon watched, with neither sound nor tears, as her body was shredded beyond recognition by gunfire. He would not cry—not until many hours later that night, as he was locked in his new dark quarters, alone; and after that, he would never cry again.

As an adult, he was not wholly ignorant of the situation that had played itself out that day. Obviously his mother had seen the men as a threat; they had been armed. But they hadn't provoked her; she had killed so easily, so quickly...without remorse. She could have spared them—instead she had killed five men, simply by turning her eyes on them. There didn't seem to be any possibility that she hadn't been corrupted...as the agents who had led him away had insisted, she had been _possessed by evil_. She had been tempted by the same powers his father supposedly had, and she had succumbed to that power. It had been her undoing.

Again he felt that which he'd sought to suppress, as he recalled the memory in more vivid detail than before...the whispering in his head re-emerged, growing increasingly louder in strength; his body began to shake, and behind his eyes a piercing light developed…_no...I won't..._

The whispering, nausea, and light vanished instantly as Bast interrupted the memory, head-butting him at the desk while purring loudly. Amon jerked his head back, startled, his nose full of gray fur; before the residual anger in his eyes diminished. He reached out a slightly shaken hand to stroke the cat's fur, as his breathing slowly calmed. Perspiration had broken out on his forehead.

_Just as it will be **my** undoing,_ he thought. _It is only a question of time._ The powers simmering beneath the surface of his skin, of which he'd had a glimpse of earlier that night, would not be contained for much longer—that he was sure of. He had seen far too many Witches during his employment with SOLOMON lose their fragile grip on reality upon coming into power; and the prospect of having his own released, and he not able to control them, frightened him beyond comprehension.

He wasn't just frightened. He was _fucking petrified._

Oblivious to his state of mind, Bast remainedseated before him, staring up into his face with her feline green eyes and blinking slowly.

_Not only that; but if one is to believe what is suggested in Benedetto's journal, then my powers are an **abomination**...never meant to be fully realized,_ he thought, recalling the Satanic references. It was something a dark part of him had suspected all of his life— he wasn't just a Witch; his existence was blasphemous, a curse. There seemed to be no question now whether his awakening would cause misery.

And he realized that as long as he was around her, it was inevitable. _She is the catalyst._

He sighed, eyes drawn to his window, as he observed the colors of the emerging morning rays; the sky resplendent with the pink, orange, and yellow hues of the rising sun. Gazing at it, instead of a quiet and hopeful serenity he felt dread.

_You know what you must do._ The decision weighed like bricks upon his soul.

_You have no choice._

xXx

The morning saw Robin heading outside, towards the white patio used as a morning breakfast nook, pilgrim's dress and loose pigtails in place.

She rounded the corner to see members of the Coven at their meal, serving themselves fruit, pastries and espresso. Seth looked up as she arrived, standing up from his chair immediately, something all of the male Coven members did regularly for her. Robin caught a glimpse of something on Chanan's face as he turned his gaze towards her, remaining seated in his chair, even as a few of his comrades stood in her presence—she felt taken aback suddenly as she saw an angry glint in his eyes, but just as quickly he disguised it.

"_Tesoro,_" Seth crooned, distracting her, "_buon giorno._ Sleep well?" He took her hand affectionately between both of his, as was customary when he greeted her, and she felt her lips gentling into a smile.

"_Si,_" she replied softly, "I slept very well, _grazie._" She did not mention to him that she thought perhaps the quality of her sleep had less to do with the successful recovery of her powers in the Circle, and more to do with what had occurred _before_ the ritual.

"_Bene,_" he gushed; and to her surprise, leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks. He smelled clean and sweet, and she could detect the moderately spicy scent of his after-shave. Startled, Robin blushed a light shade of pink, as he turned away to reclaim his seat; it was another moment before she had composed her wits sufficiently to take her own.

Seth passed her the fruit and espresso, chatting amiably at the table with the other Coven members. Something seemed amiss to her as she raised her cup of espresso to sip; the tension in the air at the table was palpable, laden with energy.

_Perhaps it is because of Sela,_ she deduced uncertainly, and decided not to speak of the deceased Witch. Any mention of her after the ritual the previous night had seemed to cease. She wondered absently if it were custom, or simply too upsetting for the group to reflect upon.

Gideon leaned across the table to pass a small container to Hedya; unexpectedly his hand shook, and he dropped the small pitcher of cream. Rivulets of milky white spread across the breakfast table. "_Maledizione,_" he muttered.

Robin looked in silent fascination at the pattern of the cream; it had formed something of a straight line, with a fork at the end. _Algiz?_

She sat staring at it, for several moments, until Seth turned to her and asked her if she was all right. Meekly, she turned back to her breakfast, allowing her eyes to skip over the pattern once more, before Gideon mopped it up.

xXx

Robin attempted to keep herself busy later that morning. She took a walk outside around the castle grounds.

She busied herself with the espresso machine in the makeshift kitchen, making more for herself before taking it entirely apart to clean every last facet of it thoroughly.

She passed by Amon's door again. It was still closed. She fought the loneliness that threatened to creep up into her chest, and instead set about making herself even busier.

She took cleaning supplies and scrubbed her bathroom clean, despite Seth's protests that it was the responsibility of the weekly maids. She set about doing the laundry.

Two hours later, as she was folding clothes, Seth appeared again. His tall, lanky frame leaned in a relaxed pose against the open doorway, his arms folded as he observed her.

"_Come stai?_" he asked. She nodded pleasantly in reply without interrupting her work. "I wanted to let you know, _tesoro,_ that the briefing for the Hunt is about to start."

She stopped folding. "Amon has still not awakened," she told him, concerned; at which Seth did a sudden double take in her direction, a shocked expression - marked with suspicion - on his face.

"_Chiedere scusa?_" he asked incredulously.

"He has not risen yet, he's still in his quarters," she went on carefully, and she watched with curiosity as he schooled his features.

"Ah, _si...va bene._" He looked distracted. "Mmm, it's no matter...he's not required on this Hunt, anyhow." He motioned with his hand for her to follow him. "_Per favore..._we don't want to be late." She stopped folding and went to the doorway where he waited, as he stepped aside to let her pass through.

xXx

In the conference room, the other members were already gathered around the table; Robin took her seat quietly.

"The target is Mita Russo, nineteen years of age," Seth began, and Robin felt a modicum of surprise at the girl's youth. "She's relatively new to SOLOMON's ranks, having only spent two years with the organization so far, and thus her Witch-hunting track record has not had a chance to develop yet; however, we understand from our contact that _Signorina_ Russo is an integral part of a partnership who plans to conduct a substantial Witch-hunting raid right here in Grosseto. It would be in our best interests to put a stop to this fledgling Huntress before she gives away our position to SOLOMON."

He went on, describing the location and more of the details of the Hunt. Robin felt her mind wandering again as he did; and despite her best efforts to pay attention to the briefing, her eyes strayed. A glance around the boardroom revealed most of the Coven looking tired and jaded, bordering on mildly irritated.

Her gaze fell on the corner of the meeting room, partially hidden by shadows, due to the dim light needed for the laptop projection...against the wall, on the far side of the room, she could see lines of shadow bisected by light—one long line forked at the bottom with three shorter lines...

_Algiz Merkstave._ The same rune she had seen on the breakfast table, outlined in spilt cream.

Ice flooded her veins. She stared at it, heart pounding, as her breathing became erratic. _Algiz is the rune of protection,_ she thought, _defense...a guardian. Awakening to higher consciousness. But when it is merkstave, reversed, it signifies hidden danger...loss of a divine connection...turning away, that which repels._

Turning away...

Robin rose from her seat at the table.

Seth stopped in mid-speech. "_Tesoro?_" he asked, uncertainly, as he saw her move towards the door of the room.

She moved past him, through the door, without even looking in his direction. "_Scusi._"

Upon exiting the conference room, she headed straight for the stairwell in the foyer, almost at a running pace—intent on going to him and entreating him, in her most earnest tone, to answer her.

Surely he had thought on his actions the previous night, and wouldn't turn her away again...he vacillated, she knew, but she could see the conflict in his eyes when he looked at her. If she could just get through to him, if she could just find the source of his discomfort when it came to her...if she could convince him that she would do everything she could to alleviate it—

She came upon his door and stopped before it, knocking gently. "Amon," she called, a measure of urgency to her voice. "Amon, _è mi._"

She tried the handle. "A— " The door opened, to her surprise. It had been unlocked.

Stepping hesitantly inside, she could see that the room was empty; his clothes were gone, his papers, his belongings, his travel bag - gone. His bed had not been slept in...even Bast was nowhere in sight. There was no longer any sign that Amon had occupied the room.

She stood, gaping, in the doorway for several minutes.

Seth had run up the stairs after her, and appeared behind her in the doorway, breathing slightly with exertion. "_Tesoro, che_—" He stopped as he looked upon the empty room. "_Dov'è lui?_" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"_Non lo so,_" Robin responded, somewhat mechanically. She stepped further into the room.

Hedya, who had come up beside Seth, turned to go back down the stairs. "I'll check the garage."

Robin slowly and methodically crossed the room to the desk by the window; she stopped before the chair, gingerly resting her hands on its hard wooden surface with reverence. She wasn't psychometric, but she thought she could still perceive his scent there, the faintest trace of it...could still barely detect his presence..._He must have left early this morning,_ she deduced silently.

How long had he sat here, at this desk? How long had he isolated himself in his room, probably torturing himself psychologically, for what they had done the night before?

And there had been no reason for him to do so. She had been more than willing - more accurately, she had _loved_ what he had done to her, as wrong as it was according to the Scriptures. She had wanted it as badly as he.

Now he was gone, and she had nothing more to give. She had bared all of herself for him, physically as well as emotionally, in her naive effort to be as close to him as humanly possible, to demonstrate to him how important he was to her...and he had run, unable to deal with the repercussions of it.

Nothing had prepared her for this, not even his hasty exit from her room the previous night...she'd held the unwavering faith that he wouldn't leave her side. _Amon...you had told me that you were with me now, and you weren't going anywhere..._

She felt a reeling wave of sadness wash over her, mingling with confusion to flood her senses, contracting in her chest; she brought one of her hands to the breast of her pilgrim's smock, curling it there tightly.

"Robin," Seth spoke softly, carefully; she noted he used her name, which he rarely did in lieu of the affectionate moniker he usually called her. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" She didn't answer him, barely having heard his words, continuing to stare at the desk before her.

Hedya came running back up the stairs, reappearing in the doorway. "The BMW is gone," she reported, panting. Her Nordic features took on a hardened expression. "Shall we report it stolen?"

"_Non,_" Seth said, glancing at Robin as he did. "But put out a call to Leor and Noa, who are en route coming back from Pisa...tell them to look for him, and to notify me when they find him." Hedya nodded and went back downstairs.

Seth regarded the chestnut-haired girl before him again, taking a step towards her. "_Tesoro_..."

Suddenly Robin turned, sweeping past him in a flowing rush of dark dress, and he ducked his head as she passed. Without a word or glance, she left the room and headed down the stairs.

Seth looked on somewhat wistfully after her.

xXx

She lay in her bed, fully clothed...staring as she had before at the half-moon spectacles on the dresser not far away. She clutched at things around her tightly—the white coverlet of her bed, the dark red stone of her pendant around her neck—as though she feared to let them go, afraid to let them out of her grasp. She had to swallow more often than usual, around a particularly painful lump in her throat that seemed primed to overtake her entire body. She fought hard to breathe normally.

Her mind continued to ask the question that her heart feared the answer to. _Has he abandoned me? Has he betrayed me, as my nightmares had suggested by linking him to **il demonio**?_

Robin had been convinced that she had successfully scaled the walls of his seemingly impenetrable fortress at last; she'd seen it crumbling, layer by layer, brick by brick, with each encounter between them. She thought she had finally crossed the deep trenches surrounding his heart—she'd seen the look in his eyes when he stood in the shadows of her darkened room, like battlements aflame, and her confidence had been renewed; surely the end of the crusade was near. He wanted to let her in…she could sense his desire to surrender completely, could feel it in his touch, in the press of his lips against hers.

But when he had left her room, as sudden and tumultuous as a bitter squall, she had realized the illusion; that the walls she had been scaling, the ones he'd built around himself, were much higher than previously thought. He had rebuilt them overnight, it seemed, and now she could no longer see past them.

_If I could just understand why he runs from me,_ Robin thought, _perhaps I could change what it is that bothers him so much._ But upon deliberating on it more, she realized that perhaps it wasn't that simple.

His confusing behavior towards her seemed to run much deeper than guilt over the differences in their ages, or any feelings of shame he might have associated with disrupting the ward/warden balance of their relationship...there seemed to truly be a modicum of _fear_ that he had somehow attached to her. Even though he had indirectly denied it the previous night, his response to her suggestion that he was _afraid of her_ had seemed telling.

He had reacted as though he'd been directly challenged with the truth.

But it had seemed whatever dread he'd harbored had _dissolved_ when they had been close enough to touch...in fact, his attentions to her had grown stronger, more demanding, after he had held her and kissed her. At the same time, he had been gentle and tender—not at all indicative of apprehension or fear. She dared regarding the moments in her bed between them, to be the closest to _happiness_ she'd ever seen expressed by him.

Yet, all of it had vanished again, instantly. The fear and dread had inexplicably returned with a vengeance. What had caused it?

She turned over in her bed, away from the glasses…the evidence of his role as her warden. The sorrow wormed its way into her chest again as she realized that he had abandoned that link to her, as well.

A soft knock came on the door of her suite. "_Tesoro._" It was Seth. He tried the door handle, opening it part way, and halted in the doorframe. "_Posso?_"

She turned back over on the bed, sitting up and attempting to compose herself. "_Entrari,_" she entreated, softly.

He came through the door, closing it gently behind him, and approached the center of the room cautiously. She could see the concern evident in his usually boyishly mischievous features. "_Come va?_" he asked, more informally than before.

She lowered her eyes, giving a half-shrug in response.

"May I join you? To talk?" Seth asked, still in his calm, gentle voice, his eyes flickering briefly to the space on the bed beside her. She hesitated momentarily, before yielding a small nod. He crossed the remainder of the room to the loft in an effortless, fluid movement, ascending the steps to the bed and taking a seat at the foot of it, facing her.

Robin pulled her knees up to her chest reflexively where she sat against the pillows, observing him with a hesitant curiosity. "What did you wish to talk about?" she asked, quietly.

He met her gaze with grave blue eyes, and she found she could not look elsewhere. Seth paused, as he seemed to mull over his own gentle words. "Amon, _tesoro._"

She ducked her head, discomfited; but out of the corner of her eye, she could see him, his attention fixated on her reaction.

"I need to know, Robin," he said, calmly and slowly, "where he has gone…and if he is going to return."

She looked up at him, her face solemn. "_Non lo so,_" she answered in earnest, feeling a degree of unease at his blunt question.

"If you knew, would you volunteer the information?" he asked pointedly; and she paused, before nodding in honest avowal. "Do you think he is going to come back?"

That was much harder to answer. She averted her eyes again, and Seth cocked his blond head slightly to the side expectantly.

"_Non lo so,_" she whispered.

His blue eyes blinked slowly, patiently. "Robin," he began again, his voice even softer, this time lilting with sentiment. "You know that you can tell me what is on your mind." He gave her a disarming half-smile. "You'd find I'm very good at listening."

Now she looked up at him in moderate apprehension. She was suddenly aware that he could read the expression on her face as plain as day, and that he was coaxing her to divulge what had happened between them the previous night…

_But he couldn't have known what had happened,_ she told herself. _He might speculate, but he couldn't have known…_

As she met his gaze once more, she saw his concern again evident in his eyes. He was so supportive, so eager to have her share her thoughts with him; and she felt her ever-present desire to trust welling up in her again, like a cresting wave.

Robin took a deep breath. "Something happened, between Amon and I," she said lowly. She felt, against her will, her face beginning to color.

"_Che cos'è?_" Seth prompted with gentleness, but she shook her head, her eyes downcast.

"I can't tell you," she whispered hurriedly. "I—" She stopped, unable to finish the word, caught up in the modest embarrassment and confusion of what had occurred—as well as what had gone wrong—between herself and her guardian the night before.

It was abruptly too much for her to grapple with, much less attempt to explain to someone else. _Amon...I don't understand...why..._

She hadn't noticed Seth moving closer until he was right next to her, reaching for her, pulling her into his embrace. The action was so graceful and smoothly executed, that she was too startled to protest as he took her into his arms, pressing her chestnut head into the soft material of his shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered consolingly, and sighed. "_Va bene._" His warmth was comforting, and despite the initial strangeness of it, Robin felt herself relaxing into a boneless, confused mass against him, assailed by the scent of his after-shave she'd detected earlier that morning. Painfully her thoughts turned to Amon.

_It is not so wrong,_ she reasoned. _Seth is kind to me._ It was something she had tried to convince Amon of several times, but he'd seemed reluctant to believe it.

"I know it is hard for you right now, _miei caro_," Seth went on softly, "after everything that's happened in the last couple of days...with Sela, with Amon...but you have to be strong, _tesoro...capisci?_"

She nodded briefly against the comfort of his silk shirt, wondering how he had known it necessary to encourage her strength at such a time.

"There is still much we have to do," he said over her chestnut-haired head, stroking her back gently. "I need your help …regardless of Amon's intentions, I need your assistance to bring these members of the organization to justice." His voice was softly cajoling. "You are the only one who can help me do that, _tesoro._"

Part of her knew it to be true; now that her powers had been restored by the ritual, and with Sela's demise, Seth needed the help of every available Craft-User in his service….

But the thought of the subsequent Hunts caused her discomfort.

Seth released her, pulling himself back to look into her face. "Come on the Hunt with us," he entreated, his words simultaneously pleading and authoritative. "It will distract you…will alleviate your mind from that which you should not be worrying about." He smoothed a lock of her chestnut-blonde hair absently. "Besides, it's possible that he just left for a short time, and will come back, _si?_ One should not give up hope so easily, _tesoro._"

His words struck a chord of irony within her. _Hope._

_I seem to have less of that, as of late,_ she considered thoughtfully. Despite her unease, Robin felt herself nodding in response to his statement. A residue of her former iron will asserted itself once more.

_Amon…I won't give up, just yet._

xXx

Hours later, in Seth's Jaguar, they headed out to their destination in Grosseto in the early evening; Robin seated up front with Seth, and Gideon and Hedya riding in the backseat. Hedya and Gideon chatted animatedly amongst themselves, seeming not to take notice of Robin's solemn mood, while Seth glanced at the downcast chestnut-haired girl periodically out of the corner of his eye.

They passed the _Palazzo della Provincia_, out into the heart of the township, driving for several miles until they headed off the main road. At a smaller, more run-down section of the town they finally stopped, exiting the car.

Seth surveyed the area, his dark blue coat fluttering gently in the breeze that had picked up around him; he briefly sniffed the air as though he were searching for quarry. "Dusk approaches," he spoke to the group, standing a ways off from the car, as they readied themselves. "We will need to move quickly, if we are to find her by nightfall." Robin looked east, to the encroaching darkness that was steadily making its way across the sky.

"Gideon and Hedya will take the west section," he instructed, pointing in the direction he spoke of. "I will take the south corridor, and Robin will go east. _Andiamo._"

They set out, in their separate routes, to find the SOLOMON agent.

xXx

For a half hour, Robin wandered the eastern quadrant of the town, hands in the pockets of her dark red trench coat, carefully scrutinizing the inhabitants she came across in the fading light. She hadn't yet found anyone matching the description of the young SOLOMON agent assigned as a target; she briefly wondered why Seth had not given her a cell phone or communicator, to keep in close contact during the search. It was certainly not the case that they lacked sufficient funds, judging by the lavish lifestyle the Coven led.

She plodded along the street slowly, reluctantly. _I do not want to do this._ Each step she took began to remind her of other Hunts she had been on, months ago, during her employment with STN-J. As much as she realized now what the organization's insidious agenda was like—_you're for us, or against us_—and that Seth's group offered Amon and herself protection, the Hunts she'd participated in had begun to wear on her soul.

A movement ahead of her caught her downcast eye, and she scanned the crowd of people on the street. A young girl matching Mita Russo's description was headed in her direction, walking quickly, eyes darting furtively about.

Robin stopped in her tracks, her face inadvertently betraying her surprise. The girl met her gaze, her own advances halted; and both stared into each other's eyes, for a long stunned moment.

Robin could almost see the words forming on the girl's lips. _È lei._

Mita Russo turned and ran in the opposite direction, her long brunette hair flying out behind her; and Robin broke into a hesitant run after, darting her way through the throng of people on the street.

The chase lasted two blocks, until the target disappeared around a corner, into an alleyway. Robin followed, her heeled boots clacking on the pavement as she rounded the corner after the agent.

She was stopped by several gunshots fired at her feet; attempting to incinerate the bullets, Robin gasped with a mix of surprise and horror as her Craft sparked…then dwindled out into nothing.

_I still cannot use my flame?_

Mita Russo was training a weapon on her, advancing slowly. Robin could see the girl was terribly young…and terribly frightened.

"Don't move," Mita demanded, ice in her tone, eyeing Robin with wariness. "I will not hesitate to shoot."

Robin stilled, her posture straightening from a fighting stance. Without the use of her Craft, she was at this Hunter's mercy. _The ritual was a failure after all._

"I won't harm you," she offered calmly, and the girl's eyes changed as she spoke.

"What is wrong with your Craft? Why don't you use it on me?" Mita challenged, moving even closer. She was now only ten feet away.

Robin kept their gazes locked, hoping to quell the other's fear. "I can't," she admitted; to which the girl blinked, obviously confused.

Mita retrained her gun, resuming her frown as she panted in fear; she tried hard to steady her shaking hands. Finally she lowered the pistol, ducking her brunette head slightly.

"Then I can't harm you, either," she relented.

Robin's countenance lifted in surprise. She studied the girl, curious. "You're not a Craft-User?" _This Hunter is a Seed?_

"No," Mita confessed, her weapon now lowered to her side. "No, I'm not. My boyfriend, _mi fidanzata,_ was, though. He was extremely powerful…we were to be married, on the sly," she said, beginning to chatter rapidly, as if she thought her time was limited. "When they found out, they killed him." She shook her head angrily. "Now I won't hunt—I _refuse_ to hunt anymore…I can't, now that I know what the organization has been hiding."

Robin was about to ask the identity of the "they" who had killed Mita's fiancé, when abruptly the girl clutched at her head, with the hand not holding her pistol. She groaned as though she were in sudden agony, as though she were recalling a terrible memory that caused her physical pain.

"_Che cos'hai?_" Robin asked, concerned, and the girl looked back up at her, her eyes widened with a new understanding. The look in the girl's eyes unnerved her.

"_It's you,_" Mita whispered, and Robin felt the blood in her veins turning to ice. "I know who you are. Is _he_ with you?"

"He?" Robin asked, and watched as the girl shook her head back and forth wildly.

"It's you…._It's you!_" The brunette girl's voice had developed from a strange sort of giddiness, to nearly full-blown hysteria. She clutched at her head. "I don't want to, anymore…_I don't want to kill them anymore!_"

Robin's own eyes widened as she witnessed Mita's breakdown. She heard wailing, crying - but it was not coming from the girl before her.

"_Tesoro!_" An Italian-accented shout disrupted her thoughts, and she saw Seth running towards her from the street end of the alley, followed by Gideon and Hedya. "Robin, get away from her!"

"No!" Robin tried to intervene, but she saw Gideon had already begun to unleash his Craft. She could see the tendrils of air that emanated from his direction, slashing things apart in their paths, like razor-sharp blades.

The blades of air missed Mita, who now looked over at Gideon furiously. Sparks of electricity crackled in the air around and above her head, twisting and curling into the darkness around her—_her Craft,_ Robin realized. She tried to call forth her flame, to form a barrier to protect the girl…but she could not even create a flicker.

"Gideon, _no!_" she cried, as she saw him unleashing another wave.

One of the blades sliced into Mita's arm, causing her to drop to the ground on one knee in pain. She looked up again at him, holding her bleeding arm, eyes full of violent hate, as she faced the next barrage of slicing wind—

Robin turned her head away, sickened, as Mita's brunette head rolled on the ground, her corpse in tatters.

She turned on Seth, who had finally made it to her side. "_Perché?_" she demanded, frowning in consternation. "She had said she wasn't going to Hunt anymore. She had said she didn't want to kill, anymore!"

His voice stern, Seth took her arm in his grip. "She would have _killed_ you, _tesoro._ SOLOMON agents will say whatever you want to hear; they will say _anything_ to save their own lives, don't you know?" He looked slightly angry, and she felt the sting of his reprimand. "Why didn't you use your flame, Robin?"

Her head was bowed. "I could not." She was lost in confusion.

Seth frowned. "Your Craft still does not work?" His troubled expression caused her to further sink into bewilderment, and she fell quiet as the Coven members disposed of the body.

Following the concealment of their work, the group made their way back to the _castello_ in heavy silence.

xXx

In the dim light of her own room, Robin considered what had happened.

The girl had been a Seed, and had said she didn't want to Hunt…that she was refusing to Hunt, because of what she had found out…

She had been a Seed, and had suddenly awakened…

Robin recalled her words. _It's you! I know who you are…_

Flashes of other memories began to assail her; the captured Witches in the Factory, floating in their green tanks, who had become animated despite their comatose states…they had recognized her presence.

Zaizen's words, directed at her with fury, as he realized his prisoners inside the Orbo production facility were awakening; _**You're** doing this?_

The Sovanan villagers, having seen her Craft's eruption, reaching to touch her dress, her hand, her hair; asking for blessings, asking for her to touch them. It was to gain power.

She had been responsible for Mita's awakening.

And, Amon - his Seed, his fear, his _mother_…

Her chest heaving with an oncoming sob, Robin buried her face in her hands, and wept.

She knew now that he was not coming back.

xXx

After having knocked several times on the oak door in front of him, he waited, his dark coat fluttering gently in the evening breeze as he stood at the porch. The door finally opened before him, the woman's face, peeking out from behind it, simultaneously pleased and expectant.

"_Bentornata,_ Amon," Jana said, stepping aside to encourage him to enter.

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xXx

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Next chapter:

Accursed destiny...The Hanged Man...A bittersweet farewell. After three thousand years of repression, the hope for the future comes at a cost with which none are content to bear. Chapter 17.

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Italian/Japanese/whatever else: ;; 

Translations: Cortion: the Inquisitor from chapter 13, "Eyes of Truth".  
Lux e tenebris lucet: (Latin) The light that shines from the darkness  
la vecchia religione: the old religion  
Uomo è Dio facendolo: Man is God in the making  
Dott.: Dottore, abbrev. Doctor of philosophy (PhD)  
Primo Direttore della Biologia Molecolare: Senior Director of Molecular Biology  
Il demonio: the demon, the Devil  
Okaasan: (Japanese) mother  
yamero: (Japanese) stop it  
tesoro: darling, treasure  
buon giorno: good morning  
si: yes  
bene: good  
come stai: how are you?  
chiedere scusa: beg your pardon  
va bene: all right, okay  
che: what  
dov'è lui: where is he  
non lo so: I don't know  
posso: may I?  
entrari: come in  
come va: how you doin'  
va bene: it's okay  
miei caro: my dear  
capisci: do you understand  
che cos'è: what is it  
andiamo: let's go  
È lei: it is you  
Mi fidanzata: my fiancé  
che cos'hai: what is wrong  
perche: why

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Watch for blog entry! -zooms off- 


	18. Chapter 17: Anathema

**A/N:** I really suck. I _really really_ suck. Two months and three weeks...good lord.

That said, enjoy. Warnings: Egyptian history lesson, character death, lots of profanity, and more angst than you can shake a stick at.

Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. But I obsess about it...more than I really should.

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**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 17: Anathema**

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Anathema: Anath"ema, n.; pl. Anathemas. L. anath?ma, fr. Gr. ? anything devoted, esp. to evil, a curse

1. A ban or curse pronounced with religious solemnity by ecclesiastical authority, and accompanied by excommunication. Hence: Denunciation of anything as accursed.

2. An imprecation; a curse; a malediction.

3. Any person or thing anathematized, or cursed by ecclesiastical authority.

Anathema Maranatha(see --1 Cor. xvi. 22), an expression commonly considered as a highly intensified form of anathema. Maran atha is now considered as a separate sentence, meaning, "Our Lord cometh.''

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xXx

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She stood aside from the door, to allow him to enter, her dark green eyes sparkling as Bast ran past her ankles and on into the house. "What do I owe pleasure to, Amon?" she asked in slightly broken English, looking back up at him as he waited on the porch.

Jana saw his face hardening, slipping into the determined mask that he wore so often; and inwardly she smiled in satisfaction.

"I realize now that you have known more all along than you've let on," he said firmly, his dark gaze unwavering. "I need information."

She waited patiently; soon enough he offered up the words, spoken hard and resolute, that she had expected to hear.

Amon looked upon Jana with barely disguised agitation. "I need to know who I am."

xXx

Jana nonchalantly poured coffee into two mugs at the stovetop. She observed Amon out of the corner of her eye in the dim light of the room, seated with his elbows resting on the kitchen table, his hands folded against his chin as he stared out into nothingness. In the candlelight he appeared wan and tired, the bruised circles underneath his dark eyes more pronounced than she'd ever seen them; she briefly wondered if he'd slept at all the past several nights.

He looked so much older just then, older than his twenty-five, nearly twenty-six years…he looked ravaged, she realized, by the thoughts and desires that plagued him. _The understanding of **who he is** has not escaped him,_ Jana thought sagely. _And though he has acknowledged the fact that fully realizing his identity is of the utmost importance, part of him does not want to face it just yet._

She brought both mugs to the table, seating herself on the other side of the table, and watched him. He nodded distractedly, taking the proffered drink and staring into it as though it held some sought-after secret of his.

Amon raised his dark eyes to hers again, speaking in monotone. "I have finished reading Benedetto's journal."

"And?" Jana's voice was calmly curious as she sipped from the mug. "You are confused, still?"

He shook his head slowly, looking back into the coffee. "It just confirmed what I'd already assumed. My awakening is inevitable, and I won't be able to control it." His hands tightened around the mug.

"What makes you so certain?" she asked.

"It's _in the notes,_" he answered with an edge of impatience, his upward glance turning into a glare, "written out plainly for anyone to see—comparing the being I was modeled after to Satan, the Devil. Benedetto described whom he'd created to be 'known as Satan to the masses'." His eyes were hard gray ice. "I have made myself an enemy of SOLOMON—I've made my peace with that. But according to him, I am to become the enemy of all of humanity as well.

"And I am no stranger to you," he said sternly, recalling the flicker of recognition in her eyes upon meeting him; he saw her visibly straighten at his words. "You knew who I was the moment I stepped onto your front porch, that first day we came to Sovana."

Tormented eyes locked with hers, and she felt her heart lurch as his gaze seemed to pierce the very core of her soul. "Why did you give me this journal?" he asked, his voice tight, devoid of emotion. "_Satan to the masses._ Is that what I am? Is that what he meant for me to be?"

"But you see…that is only part of the equation, Amon," Jana countered softly, still calm. "I do indeed know who you are. But something you should have learned by now is that light and darkness, life and death, right and left…are brothers of one another. They are inseparable. Because of this, neither are the 'good' good, nor 'evil' evil."

At that moment, Robin's words from their discussion following Masuda's Inquisition came back to haunt him. _Everyone has some darkness within them._

"So you are saying that Satan, _the Devil_, is in fact _not evil,_" he responded with skepticism.

"_Satan,_" Jana repeated slowly, rolling the word on her tongue with distaste, "as he is described by the Church in the Holy Scriptures, does not _exist_." She folded her arms on the table before her. "He is a myth, created by priests and followers of the powerful new religion, to draw humans away from the worship of one whom they had long been faithful to. He who is the 'true face of evil' exists only in name, nothing more."

"Then whom does Benedetto speak of in the writing?" Amon asked pointedly. "What is the meaning of the serpent, and the man with the head of a ram, if not the symbols of the Devil?"

Jana's smile was mysterious. "Suspend your disbelief for a moment, and I shall tell you."

xXx

In her suite, Robin lay on her back across her bed, her long hair loose and tangled all around her. Hands curled at her breast, her tears continued to flow freely…eking from her eyes like solemn rivers that refused to dry up.

Because she was indeed the Eve of Witches, as Toudou had declared, Seeds—people born with the cursed but dormant genes—awoke and responded to her presence. This was her fate; _this_ was why he had run from her. Some innate part of him had known that she had the power to transform him, to awaken him as a witch.

_And he fears it,_ she thought desolately. _Because of his mother, he fears it more than anything he's faced his entire life. As long as he is around me, I threaten to take away that which matters to him the most—his humanity._ She pictured him in her mind, noble and silent, alone and isolated; always he had held himself back from others, his entire life, to prevent what she was doing to him now.

Her heart was pained. _I can't allow it. I cannot turn him into what he fears most...I would never forgive myself._

Although she was aware that the answer was to remain apart from him, physically and most likely emotionally...the pain of the idea of separation was almost more than she could bear.

_God, help me...please, I beg you..._

_...Please let me know that I am not forsaken. _

———

The room surrounding them had grown darker with the passing hour as the night wore on. "Thousands of years ago," Jana began, "humans worshipped beings with special powers, powers unknown to ordinary humans…beings who today are called _witches._" She saw his curt nod. "Hiroshi Toudou's video diary told you as much. Humans in that day and age praised and adored them, calling them _gods_. In return the gods ruled them, offering benevolent leadership, protection...and sometimes, punishment.

"According to Toudou's research, a single god—born thirty-five hundred years ago—developed a mutation that caused him to lose the ability to pass his genes directly to his offspring," she continued. "At that time in history, roughly 1500 B.C., there was one centralized location in the world where the gods were at the height of their power…and for centuries from this place their influence, beliefs and mythology had spread across the globe, nearly becoming universal." She looked knowingly at Amon.

Realization was slowly dawning on his face. "Egypt."

Jana nodded. "From the cradle of civilization came forth the god whose genes changed the future of their entire race." She paused as she saw that he was watching her intently; and leaning in conspiratorially, she continued to speak, her voice becoming slow and melodically rhythmic—nearly musical, as though she were singing him a song.

"He was the most powerful of them, at the time—king of all the gods, ruler of gods and humans alike. During the Eighteenth Dynasty in Thebes, at the splendid temples of Karnak and Luxor, he was worshipped daily by the priesthood and honored by the entire population at magnificent festivals and celebrations, as well as by elaborate rituals.

"He was unlike any of the other gods. Called _asha renu,_ 'he who is rich in names', he was known as the Sun God, Fertility God…Warrior God. 'Mysterious of form', 'He who abides in all things', 'Ba of all things'. Sometimes denoted as the _Breath of Life_, his true name literally means _The Hidden One_. He was mysterious and omnipotent, according to his priesthood. But he was deeply loved by the people, who referred to him affectionately as _Father._"

Amon's vision narrowed. He had begun to feel slightly dizzy as his mind formed imagery to the words Jana spoke. Her descriptions sounded more and more familiar to him as he listened; and as his mind began to drift, he felt the faint impression on his skin of searing heat, as if he'd been too long in the sun.

"The Egyptians revered him; they called him the champion of the poor and the humble. In courts of law, he upheld the rights of men regardless of wealth. 'He does not take bribes from the guilty, he does not look at him who promises; he judges the land with his fingers. He speaks to the heart, and judges the guilty.'" She paused, bestowing a faint smile in Amon's direction, her voice once more taking on the strange rhythmic tone. "Those who were guilty, he punished severely. But he was not without compassion; commoners looked to him in times of need and protection."

Watching him, Jana could sense his discomfort, his confusion; but her descriptions continued, undaunted. She leaned in closer. "Of him, it is further said: 'He is hidden from the gods, and his aspect is unknown. He is farther than the sky, he is deeper than the Duat. No god knows his true appearance...no one testifies to him accurately. He is too secret to uncover in his awesomeness, he is too great to investigate, too powerful to know. Manifest one, whose identity is hidden... as it is inaccessible.'"

_There is no way to say, 'What is his quantity?' or, 'What is his quality?', for no one can know him._ The Nag Hammadi quote from Benedetto's journal was suddenly sharp and clear in Amon's mind. A sinking feeling descended upon him, through the dizziness he'd felt a moment prior—not fear, but recognition.

Jana nodded affirmatively in response to the look in his eyes, and narrowed her own. "You know of whom I'm speaking. Part of you...has always known, because you have within you his genes, his blueprint...his life's very essence flows through your veins." She smirked. "And, of all things, you bear his sacred name as well."

He stared at her, transfixed.

"Amon-Ra," she continued without preamble, "the incarnation of the three major Egyptian deities—Amon, the Father and Creator; Osiris, the Hunter and Judge of the Dead; and Ra, the Sun God. The King of Gods, whose supremacy was lost thousands of years ago, when _his son failed to inherit his father's powers._"

_My son._ A flash of memory beset him—a small, broken, lifeless body, held in his arms; blood caking on childlike lips. His breath nearly caught, choking in his throat at the wave of emotion with which he was all too familiar...the stinging grief of loss.

"This was not mentioned outright in Benedetto's work for a very good reason," she continued carefully in a quieter tone, watching as Amon's emotions warred with themselves in his eyes. "Your original design, according to SOLOMON's will, was to be that of a powerful Hunter for their purposes—nothing more. If it had been discovered that you had been engineered using DNA from such a forbidden source, you would not have lived long enough for us to be having this conversation right now."

He put his hands to his eyes, covering his face momentarily in a gesture of weary disbelief. The faint, distant memory of the child dying in his arms, recollected so suddenly and with such clarity, had sapped his residual strength; he felt his composure weakening, as though something fought to break through to the surface.

As he collected it, he spoke again, words muffled by his own hands. "How in the hell do you know all of this?"

The evidence of Jana's smile was sadly ironic. "Our powers as Witches are both a blessing and a curse. Blessing, because without mine, I would not be able to tell you what I know—what _has_ happened, and what _will_ happen." The older woman's smile slowly withered as her voice lost its volume, and her eyes drifted down to the table before her. "Curse, because I would not wish the entirety of this knowledge upon anyone."

Amon took his hands away from his face; having resumed his impassive facade, he studied her from where he sat. It seemed impossible to believe that he was treating her words as the truth, but nevertheless...

As though she had read his mind, Jana said suddenly, "The truth always has more than one side to it. Remember that, Amon."

He straightened somewhat in his chair, attempting to collect his scattered thoughts. "The ram and the snake?" he asked simply, not trusting himself to vocalize more at that moment.

"The creatures you've seen associated with him—the horned ram, the coiled serpent—were sacred to Amon-Ra. He was associated with the primeval notion of the serpent as a creator, as it sheds its skin to begin new life. The snake eating its tail, called _ouroboros_, symbolizes the cyclic nature of the universe—life out of death, the eternal cycle of renewal. It is a symbol of the Sun, of a return to wholeness...of immortality.

"The ram was a figure of more earthly connotations...in Egypt, the ram, bull, and goat were all revered for their potent sexual energy," Jana's smirk briefly reasserted itself, as she witnessed Amon's attempt at schooling his features, "and for that, they were never sacrificed in his name. As a Fertility God, his role in displaying strength in that area was very important; sex, to the Egyptians, was an extremely powerful method of working magick."

She cocked her head slightly to the side, still observing him. "That is why he is sometimes pictured in text with the head of a ram—or goat, as he was also known as the Goat of Mendes—the _Horned One_."

Amon's gaze never wavered, as the connection clicked into place. "The Witches' God."

"'Lord of the Heavens, clothed in the Sun, and bearing a golden rod. Lord of the Earth, horned like a stag, and powerful. Lord of the Afterworld, dark and lonely, stern and just'," Jana affirmed, and smiled again. "You remembered."

"Giovanna's story...was difficult to forget," he confessed quietly, his eyes downcast towards the table before him. Brief flares of memory, of Robin in the dark kitchen illuminated by candlelight, of his arms entwined around her, reminded him of something else that had been difficult to forget about that night.

He recalled the old woman's description: _He dispels the darkness with His presence. He is the Illuminator, and reveals all that is hidden. He scatters all falsehoods, and establishes truth._

_If only it were that simple,_ Amon thought to himself, _and not so easy to linger in the anonymity that the darkness affords._

The older woman continued to speak. "To the scattered worshippers who continued to believe in Amon's divinity after his downfall, his name evolved throughout millenia, into the names more obviously associated with the Witches' God... Janus, Zeus-Ammon, Jupiter, Cernnunos, Herne, Dianus…Robin Goodfellow," she said quietly. "But he was also demonized, by the religious authority who took power...those whom had overthrown him, when the last remnants of the Egyptian deities' power fell, followed by the Romans'. Including the name Amon, he was known to _them_ as Ba'al, Belial, Pan...Baphomet."

Amon recalled the missing letters in the diary's notes. _BA...HO...T._ The horned Devil. "The origin of Satan," he confirmed quietly.

Jana nodded. "As a result, the beings we know as 'God' and 'Satan' are not separate entities—they are one. You are dichotomous; you are both God and the Devil, the God with Two Faces, light and darkness...simultaneously the Protector and Destroyer."

"What happened, in Egypt?" he asked, after a slight pause. "What happened to the rest of the gods?"

"When it was discovered that Amon-Ra's son, Khonsu, was powerless, unlike his father—the repercussions were disastrous," she went on to explain. She saw his eyes change at the mention of the boy's name, and continued.

"Already since the beginning of his reign there were dissidents, a group of humans and gods alike, who began insisting that Amon was not fit to be worshipped; that he and others who ruled by his side—powerful gods that, underneath Amon, made up a ruling octet known as the Ennead—were unworthy. When the Divine Son was born without godlike abilities, because of his father's mutation, the dissidents realized they had a means with which to denounce Amon.

"In particular there was one, Akhenaten, who was at the forefront of the move to overthrow the gods. The son of a pharaoh, whose original name was Amenhotep, meaning 'Amon is Content', Akhenaten changed his name in defiance of his father's devotion to the gods. Once his father had died and he ascended as pharaoh, he took control and organized a large number of less-powerful gods—who shared his views of Amon-Ra and the Ennead—and directed them to _take down the ones who ruled._"

His mouth opened slightly in surprise, and Jana nodded in response. "Yes—_the first Hunt._" She ducked her head. "The Ennead were more powerful, individually, than their enemies—but the dissidents under Akhenaten were numerous enough to overpower them. They started with the Divine Son, the boy Khonsu. Amon-Ra and his consort had several children, all of whom were born with the mutation...but Khonsu had been the first and only male child, and had been in line to eventually inherit the rule from his father.

"After that, they slaughtered the Ennead, leaving Amon and his consort for the last. Both weakened with poison, they forced Amon to watch, restraining him as before his unbelieving eyes they tortured her mercilessly, then burned her alive with fire from her own flame. They finished with him, afterwards." She watched his face for signs of recognition of that event; but when she saw only confusion, Jana reluctantly continued.

"Akhenaten ruled for twenty years, defacing every monument and piece of art dedicated to Amon-Ra...attempting to remove his name from Egypt's very history, in an effort to establish permanent human rule. He was finally overthrown, by humans still faithful to Amon-Ra's legacy; and they cast Akhenaten out of Egypt, along with his followers...in what became known, biblically, as the Exodus."

"The Exodus," Amon commented, "was the story of Moses."

Jana nodded. "Who was the same person as Akhenaten," she replied. "He had commanded that people worship a 'sun disk' called Aten; an entity devoid of human and Witch-like characteristics. He was, like Moses of the Bible, the first Monotheist." She cocked her head in a curious fashion. "But Moses-Akhenaten was also trained in the rituals of witchcraft as well, which he had learned in Egypt, and which he taught to his human and lesser-god followers...who became known as Kabbalists.

"Kabbalah was mainly a Judaic religion, from the Hebrew root-word _qbl_, which meant 'received tradition', signifying 'mouth to ear'; and was supposedly given to Moses at Mount Sinai. King Solomon was the most notorious practitioner of it; during his reign in the Holy Land, he was said to have controlled 'demons', who were in fact Witches, and made them do his bidding."

It was slowly falling into place for Amon; the references to the biblical Old Testament were beginning to make sense. He felt as though a puzzle was unraveling before him.

"After the fall of the Roman Empire, as Christianity came into power, Kabbalists began to infiltrate the Church, and a hybrid of the two religions began to form. Through the violent middle ages as the Catholics took control, religious scholars began transcribing the _Zohar_ and the _Sepher Yetzirah_, two of the most influential Kabbalist writings, from Hebrew into Latin. The resulting blend of the two religions became known as the Christian Cabala.

"This secret sect of Christianity was primarily responsible for the majority of Witch Hunts that began in the middle ages and continued on until present time. It was only recently, within the last one hundred years, that the Cabalists finally merged with one of the more visible Catholic organizations—called Opus Dei, 'God's Work', eventually changing their name to SOLOMON—and outwardly took the global control that they had actually held for centuries."

_Opus Dei._ Amon had heard brief mention of the group, and now as he recalled it, he wondered why he had never directly associated it as having been a frontrunner of SOLOMON before; the resemblances were startling. Roman Catholic, secretive, aggressive recruitment practices, dissuasion of interpersonal relationships...

"Throughout history, people who continued to be born with the Witch genes through the ages—no longer directly inherited, instead appearing dormant and at random, as Seeds—were hunted down systematically and killed, claimed by the religious authority to have been in league with the Devil...'children of Amon'." She nodded to herself, eyes downcast. "With the demise of the Ancient Ones, their ability to re-establish themselves as successors of humanity had been refused."

Toudou had used the same terminology, _successors,_ as well. _Human evolution. Inherit the species._

Suddenly Amon's interest in the explanation of Benedetto's subtle hints became a guarded wariness as to the deceased scientist's motives. Robin was to be the Eve, and bear Witches as children...so exactly what role did Benedetto intend for _him_ to play?

His face was set in grim lines. "Why did Benedetto do it?" To her, he thought, perhaps it was a stupid question—but he wanted his suspicions confirmed.

"_Why?_" Jana asked, surprised but with a lilting humor. "_Buono Dio,_ Amon. If you haven't figured that out, by now..." She cocked her head in his direction, her face stern and serious, all humor gone. "Mario risked his career, his colleagues—_his very life_, to bring you into being. Knowing how important your incarnation was in the past, he knew how important you were to the future."

He inclined his head slightly, as an encouragement for Jana to continue.

"You, by your true nature, are the antithesis of what SOLOMON stands for—a resurrected god of ancient times. You are destined to shape and unite a new world that will have no place for an organization such as themselves."

She looked at him in earnest. "You are to bring them to their knees."

A sickening wave hit him full-force. Amon's knee-jerk reaction was denial; he shook his head firmly, even as Jana appeared to bristle at his repudiation.

"That is impossible. No one can do that." His features hardened. "The organization is more powerful than the local governments through which they operate; their reach is far beyond what you or even I can imagine. It's an impossibility, for _anyone_. Benedetto, of all people, should have realized that." _Perhaps he did, too late,_ he thought; but the stern tone in his voice was unyielding. "Instead, he and Toudou were…_experimenting_ on people...trying to _play God_."

Jana nearly sputtered. "They were no more playing God than _SOLOMON_ has been, all of these years," she exclaimed, indignant. "_Who_ is in violation of the natural law? _Who_ has suppressed evolution of the species? Toudou and Benedetto were attempting to give Witches a fighting chance. You would _deny_ us that?"

She eyed him now, more skeptically than before. His features had changed again, ever so slightly, the steel gray eyes registering a perplexed sort of understanding at her words; but now Jana felt the weight of concern. Part of him still subscribed to the brainwashing of the organization, regardless of the changes she'd seen in him.

"You don't seem to understand, Amon," she chided sternly. "The roots of SOLOMON's authority lie in deception, and their ability to manipulate those under their control. They are only as powerful as people—be they human or Witch—_allow them to be._"

"It's not a simple question of allowing them to be anything," he argued, the edge still present in his voice. "They have Craft-users, the most powerful ones, on their payroll. They have military capability, strongest in the world. Any notion that they can be removed from power is a delusion."

Jana folded her arms. "So tell me, then, _cacciatore_…" she started, intentionally baiting him with the name, "if it's futile, _why did you run?_ What are you hoping to do?"

His train of thought suddenly derailed, Amon sat stock-still. "Run?"

"From Factory?" she continued, waving a hand in the air nonchalantly. "Why did you not surrender to SOLOMON right then, and there?"

He lowered his eyes. Toudou's words in the videotape had so inspired him that day, as had Robin's strength; he'd been instilled with what was possibly a false hope, for both of them. He'd thought they could hide themselves away, bury themselves in a place where SOLOMON couldn't find them...

But perhaps he'd been clinging to the same misguided faith that Robin held; that they would live, that they would be safe, that there was a light at the end of the darkness. Perhaps it was just a temporary escape from reality …running from the inevitable truth.

False hope. Misguided faith. His words were thick with ice. "I don't know."

Jana shook her head. "You _do_ know. Because you won't give her—or yourself—up, without a fight." She regarded him shrewdly. "You are doubting yourself, right now, Amon, as you always have...as SOLOMON _would have_ you do. As you have, since your mother's death."

At the mention of Matoko, Amon's gaze raised to meet hers, his displeasure thinly veiled behind it.

"You knew her death was wrong, but you did not trust in your ability to avenge her—so you believed the lie that she had lost control, to justify it in your mind." She looked at him sadly. "And who is to blame you? You were just a child, back then.

"You tried to believe Robin was dangerous, also, later on," she continued, watching the conflict in his eyes. "You were under strict orders to hunt her—were told that she was a dangerous Witch. You _tried_ to convince yourself...you tried, very hard, with every fiber of your being." Her eyes narrowed in sympathy as she paused before shaking her head, smiling gently.

"But you couldn't do it. Because, for the first time since you'd been a child, you began to _believe in your own judgment._"

She bowed her head then, in a slow nod. "And it is your judgment that will save you, that will turn the tide against them. It already has; already the first step has been taken. _She_ is with you."

He knew she meant Robin. Again he could hear the unusual inflection in her voice, and now he was convinced that she was intentionally speaking in such a manner as to make him aware of something, to spark some sort of recognition in his subconscious...to make him _remember._

Amon felt himself asking a question, his voice quietly subdued, his vision once more becoming hazy. "Who is she?"

Jana smiled mysteriously, chin resting on her folded hands. "You knew her right away, didn't you," she said softly, her voice oddly soothing. "Although the veil over your heart's eyes was not yet completely lifted yet, you cannot deny that during your first meeting, you recognized her somehow."

It was eerie, to him, how Jana effortlessly pulled his own memories, his own recollections, out of thin air; making them more vivid and tangible than they had been the first time around. His mind flashed back several months to that moment, that hazy afternoon at Harry's...he recalled his slow steps through the hallway, the taste of gin still on his breath from the afternoon's drink...passing her as she demurely passed him...glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. His glance caught her own—suddenly both were ensnared, captivated; and before either one had realized, the peripheral glance had sparked into a full-fledged stare. It was the strangest feeling of familiarity he'd ever experienced in his entire life.

It was the last time Amon had allowed himself an early evening cocktail on the job, after Robin arrived.

"She is much more ancient than I have previously led her to believe," Jana went on. "She is not only the descendent of _la bella Pellegrina,_ as I am...she _is_ the Pellegrina, returned to us." She smiled knowingly up into Amon's eyes. "You knew that too, even when I had read the story to you, and you had denied it. But, she does not know that she is older still, older than Aradia, older than _La Matrona,_ Diana; her first incarnation predates them by thousands of years.

"Three thousand years ago, Amon-Ra ruled the civilized world, the Egyptian kingdoms, gods and humans alike. Beside him, ever present, was his female counterpart; who took various forms, and had many names, even more than he himself did.

"Sometimes she was known as Mut, the eternal mother of all creation, protectress of children. Other times, as he was the Hunter Osiris, she was the winged Isis—goddess of the cold and mysterious moon; a magical healer and resurrector, and more cunning and clever than a million gods.

"And sometimes," she went on, a gleam in her dark green eyes, "she took the form of a beautiful goddess of cats, both ferocious and domesticated—called _Bast._" She smiled as she saw his own eyes alight in recognition. "Virgin maiden of fire, fierce protectress of Ra; devouring his enemies with flames as hot as the core of the Sun, fiery and vengeful."

_So that's it,_ Amon thought to himself. _Fiery celestial energy—_

"Protectress of Ra?" he asked suddenly, his eyes unexpectedly widening; to which Jana nodded in affirmation.

"She is far more than simply a womb," she responded. "One of Toudou's objectives, following in his mentor's footsteps, was to ensure that he could provide the designated _guardian_ for Benedetto's creation, as his abilities lay dormant."

His mouth gaped slightly in astonishment as Jana looked at him, steadfast. "She is the 'Eye of Ra'; she is your protector...and when you have awakened to your powers, she shall be your _avenger._"

Even as the irony settled into the forefront of his mind—his _ward_ was truly meant to be his _shield,_ after all—he knew all of it to be true. She had used her flame at his bidding, to both protect and aid him; and with his instruction and guidance, she had grown even more powerful. Was it possible that some part of him had subconsciously known from the beginning what she was?

When she had killed Masuda that night in the park, after the man had turned on him with furious and livid eyes, trying to crush him with his Craft...had he known it, even then? Although sorrowful, she had done it so readily—almost as though it were second nature to her—

_Dark eyes, full of such sadness and pain. —I won't allow them to do this to you—_

The sudden sensation of grief was so tangible that he was momentarily stunned.

Jana's words interrupted his thoughts. "You are wondering why her power now wanes, when at times before it has appeared to grow stronger?"

He wasn't wondering it at that moment, his eyes far away as he tried to resurrect the memory that had just besieged him; nevertheless, he nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Think back on each time the strength of her Craft increased dramatically," the older woman suggested. "Were you in immediate and serious danger? Was she protecting herself, or you alone?"

Amon reflected. There had been a couple of exceptions, such as her confrontation with Sastre, when she didn't know he was watching her from the shadows; but he recalled Masuda, and the Hunter they'd encountered in Siena...and Zaizen and his concentrated Orbo, in Factory. "She was protecting me."

"_Si._ But, protecting you isn't the _only_ situation that can increase her powers..." Jana smirked. "There is another."

He looked up slowly at her remark—recalling the moments in the young witch's bed, the strange flow of energy from himself to her and back again—and his eyes narrowed, mouth drawing into a tight line.

Jana studied him carefully, as he remained mute. She had seen his furtive glances, had felt the palpable tension in the air when she'd first mentioned her granddaughter. _So, he _has_ had a taste of the influence of the Arcanum…and it frightens him._

"Robin's Craft wanes for the very opposite reason that it becomes strengthened," she said. "Because something is being denied her." Her instincts—which never failed her—told her that Amon hadn't given the young witch notice before he'd left the castle.

She folded her arms again on the table before her, her eyes searching his face. "You don't view her as a child, do you," she said, more statement than question. "You desire her, as a man would a woman."

"I've done more than just that." He put his face in his hand again as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, his voice sardonic and self-deprecating—a vision of Robin beneath him, sighing and writhing, his mouth moving over her body.

"Do you love her?" Jana asked quietly and earnestly, without missing a beat.

He didn't even look up, but his expression hardened. "I'm not capable of—"

"Do you _love_ her, Amon." The older woman's voice had intensified in strength. He now gave her his full attention, meeting her eyes with a leveled glare.

Jana sighed and shrugged, delicately. "You don't have to answer me if you feel you can't," she conceded; "but it's something that you should have figured out, by now…and if you haven't figured it out yet, you had better do it quickly." She saw his eyes register interest at the ominous tone of her warning. "It is imperative that you soon finish what you have started, where she is concerned."

Amon's brows lifted faintly. Caught off guard, he had to resist a smirk at the solemnly delivered edict. _Admit it; it's not as though you hadn't thought about doing that, yourself._ Having not only Jana's permission, but having received her _express command_ to seduce her granddaughter as soon as the opportunity arose, made it all the more absurdly amusing.

"As interesting a consideration as that is," he said, prudently, his eyes growing serious, "to do so will mean that I will suffer the same fate as my mother."

"Your mother did not go insane, Amon," she deadpanned. "She had _complete control of her power, the entire time._"

Now he frowned, his moment of good humor forgotten; having begun to reach the limits of his patience where Matoko was concerned. "You weren't there. You didn't see it happen—_I did,_" he reminded her acerbically.

She responded in kind. "You _don't remember._ You must fully evoke your memory of the incident with your mother, in its entirety, to understand."

"Knowing who I supposedly am, does not change the possibility that I cannot control this dormant power within me," he argued, switching tactics abruptly. "It doesn't change the possibility that something terrible might happen upon my awakening."

"Not something terrible," she said, gently; and he was suddenly and powerfully reminded of what he'd said to Robin, as he'd held her in his arms. "Something _wonderful._"

He sighed and rubbed his slightly whiskered face with his hand again in frustration, allowing it to run briefly through his disheveled dark hair. It was close to two o'clock in the morning; despite his fatigue, however, he doubted he would get sleep that night.

Jana then gave him a pointed look. "Your awakening is already partially completed," she said, and gave him a skeptical glance when his eyes narrowed. "You deny this, even with the subtle powers you have begun to demonstrate? The healing, the instance of it in Factory?"

She persevered, in the face of his apparent disbelief that she could know such things. "Robin is indeed triggering it, Amon; but it has already begun, you cannot undo it." She paused, looking him over carefully. "And you are the only one who can choose to see it through to fruition."

"There is more," he insisted, his eyes lowered again as he recalled it. "When I was with Robin, I saw a vision."

"What did you see?" she asked calmly.

Amon met her eyes again. "I saw her death."

Jana paused before she spoke. "What you saw was not what would happen when you will awaken," she began slowly, "...it is what will happen if you _do not_ awaken."

His concern was immediate, and real. "What do you mean?"

The older woman sighed.

"The Army of SOLOMON is already on the Hunt," she explained, "and they are after Robin."

"Because she is the Arcanum of the Craft," he said slowly, to which she vehemently shook her head. Amon struggled to comprehend.

"The Arcanum is not a single person—nor a tangible artifact, nor a Craft ability," Jana asserted. "The Arcanum, the Secret of Secrets, is the apocalyptic fate described in Revelations, that SOLOMON seeks to prevent; the union that would initiate the equivalent of the biblical Judgment Day. It is the key to jump-starting human evolution."

_It is to drink a poison which would extinguish the suns and consume the worlds._ The notes associated with it in Benedetto's journal, he recalled, had certainly sounded apocalyptic enough. _There was something about two triangles…Solomon's Seal, the talisman of Saturn…_

It was still not making complete sense to him. But if Robin herself _wasn't_ the Arcanum…then why were they after her? Unless….

He stiffened with sudden realization. "They know she is the Eve." Amon fixed his gaze on her, his expression gradually changing from troubled to stern. Toudou's data had most likely been lost in the destruction of Factory. "Juliano told them."

"Juliano did no such thing," Jana responded. When he attempted to argue, she continued impatiently, "You still do not believe his word, even when Juliano was the one who intentionally _sent Robin to you_ at STN-J, so many months ago, fulfilling the dying request of his daughter, Maria."

_Maria had requested that he do such a thing?_ "He ordered me to hunt her," he said darkly after a slight pause, his brow furrowed with uncertainty, "and when I hesitated, he sent some of SOLOMON's most powerful Craft-Users to do the job I had refused." Amon frowned deeply. "He had lost faith in her before—it can happen again."

"_Non._ As I told you, he is aware of your true identity," Jana reminded him. "It was a test—not of Robin; she had already proved whom she was to him, and how powerful, when she had killed to protect you." She nodded at Amon. "He was testing _you._"

A voice inside him said, _it is possible._ It was possible that his entire career with the organization had been one long, drawn-out assessment, with different instructors administering individual portions of the exam. Kate had likely been SOLOMON's way of re-confirming his loyalty to them, after so many years; between Zaizen and Headquarters, there might have been several such trials.

And it was possible that what he'd thought earlier was true…that Juliano had his _own_ agenda.

The older woman was still speaking. "Your mother's dormant powers were not released because of anger, or trauma, or violence…and neither will your own."

She slowly pushed a card, face down, across the table to him; Amon reached for it, hesitantly turning it over.

A man hung upside down from a tree by his legs.

"This is the Hanged Man of the Tarot," Jana explained. "One of the most paradoxical, contradictory cards in the Tarot deck. With it, certain truths are presented to us...but they are hidden in their opposites."

She watched his expression closely; and when he made no indication for her to stop, she continued talking.

"It reflects the story of the Norse god Odin, who offered himself as a sacrifice in order to gain knowledge," she clarified. "Hanging from the World Tree, wounded by a spear, given no bread or mead, he hung for nine days. On the last day, he saw on the ground runes that had fallen from the tree...he understood their meaning, and coming down, scooped them up for his own. All knowledge is to be found in these runes.

"The reason he could attain this knowledge, was because he had _stopped resisting_; instead, he had made himself vulnerable, sacrificed his position, his opposition...and in doing so, he gained illumination. Answers that eluded him became clear. He saw the world differently than before."

She went on, undeterred. "This card tells us that the best approach to a problem is not always the most obvious. When we most want to act, that is when we should wait. When we most want to have our own way, that is when we should sacrifice. When we most want to enforce our will...that is when we should _let go._ The irony is that by making these contradictory moves, we find what we are looking for."

He was mute, again; Jana silently lauded Robin's patience.

"You see, Amon; the Hanged Man signifies a time of insight so deep that, for a moment, nothing but that insight exists—a moment of suspension between the physical and mystical worlds. But, this insight is fleeting. Such moments don't last, and they require some kind of sacrifice. Sacrifice of a belief or perspective, a wish, dream, money, time...or even _hope_." Jana gazed at him meaningfully. "In order to gain, you must give. This is the key to unlocking your power." Once more, he was silent.

"You must remember the incident with your mother," she said once more, and frowned at his insistent stoicism. _He sits there, so rock-still, so controlled. He doesn't realize that time is running out—his, and hers._

"Have you completely accepted anything I have revealed to you tonight, Amon?" she asked, her voice stern.

He rubbed his eyes again, tiredly. He was only twenty-five, going on twenty-six; but he suddenly felt old…so old. "It is a lot to think on."

"_Si,_" she answered sarcastically, drawling the affirmative. "People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant."

He frowned at her over his hand. "This is not easy for me to accept."

"No?" she asked, bitingly. "Not easy for you, _non?_ _Niente è facile,_ Amon," she said, and she saw his anger begin to build beneath the simmering calm of gray.

_Buono._

"You would deny this opportunity to go to her now, to complete the plans that Hiroshi and Mario sacrificed their lives for?" she demanded, her dark green eyes growing more livid by the moment. "You put it off, because why—because you need more time to think?"

"I'm not denying anyt—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Amon," she said, with as much ice as she could muster; and as she did, she saw the beginnings of a frostiness in his own eyes that nearly frightened her. "You are close—so close—and yet you would condemn the both of you to the same fate you have played out, over and over again, for millennia? It is much more than genetics that you and Robin share with your predecessors...you have both returned _multiple times_, seeking each other...always separated, but always searching. It is only now, that you both have the power and potential to be what you are destined to be."

_Don't hesitate, don't fight it,_ she wanted to warn him. _Don't let it slip by. It's still not too late._

But she saw that her pleading, her attempts at cajoling him into taking action, were fruitless. His stubborn doubt—and fear—had not relinquished their hold on him.

"I don't believe in fate, or destiny," Amon declared tenaciously. "I am in control of my own life."

Jana mentally shook her head. _If you only knew how untrue that was._ "Then you have cursed yours...and her own, as well," she said, ignoring his glare. She gave a deep sigh before speaking again.

"The Army of the Cabal has her now at this moment in their grip, even as you sit here. SOLOMON surrounds her on all sides."

He blinked; all of his anger dissipated in a single moment. Jana, for the first time, saw fear register in his eyes. "_Nani!_"

"They all have Hebrew names," she said, calculatingly. " 'Seth', 'Noa', 'Gideon'. A mole, within the organization. Financial assistance, and a background that cannot be explained or justified. You knew all of this already; and you just did not scrutinize carefully enough." With each point she made, his eyes grew wider; his fists balled up helplessly on the table before him.

"Tell me, Amon," she said, making no effort to disguise the sting beneath her words, "did the hunters you kill beg for their lives, when caught in the crosshairs of your sniper rifle?"

A sickening feeling was coming over him, as steadily as a wave crashing above his head...drowning him in dread and self-loathing. _You ran out…you abandoned her, and you left her—alone, with—oh God…_ His eyes swung back to the older woman before him, as something else dawned on him.

"You _knew,_" he growled, his eyes narrowing into dangerous dark gray slits. "_You knew_ about Seth, this entire time—and yet you allowed us to go to him—you knew, and you didn't say anything—you even insisted that we not leave Italy…" He was nearly livid, barely holding onto his self-control. Jana was silent in response, hands folded before her on the table.

"You've been _manipulating_ us," he seethed.

"I did what needed to be done," she responded flatly, refusing to be intimidated by his anger.

He rose from his chair, leveling a dark scowl in her direction. "Don't think about leaving," he warned ominously. "If you try to leave this area, I _will_ hunt you down and find you." He moved towards the entryway. "I will deal with you when I get back, and then Robin and I are getting away from here—_for good._"

Jana heard the heavy, hurried sounds of his boots on linoleum…then the sound of the front door being yanked open, and slammed shut. Moments later she heard the gunning of his car's motor and the spray of gravel that came forth from spinning tires.

She looked down to where Bast sat on the floor beside her leg, and calmly reached her hand down to caress the soft gray head; Bast gazed upwards into the woman's sad, dark green eyes. The Tarot card lay on the table across from her, before the empty chair.

xXx

By a little after two in the morning—her tears long since dried—Robin had regained her resolve. It was the only thing she could do; she would leave the castle, in search of Amon.

She had an idea of his whereabouts after he had taken his leave; she would go to Jana's home first. There was a strong likelihood that he was there. Once she found him, she would admit to the knowledge of what she was doing to him, as the Eve...and they would decide on a course of action together, whatever the final outcome was. She would most likely stay with Jana in Sovana, protecting her and the villagers there; but perhaps, instead of traveling together as they had been doing, she and Amon would separate, and he would go elsewhere.

Where would he go? Perhaps he would travel back to Japan, she mused…it wasn't entirely out of the question. He could evade SOLOMON's radar much easier without the constant danger of her Craft giving him away, and perhaps he could even return to Tokyo and assist Nagira and the STN-J, somehow…Nagira most likely had contacts still in Japan, and elsewhere, who could hide Amon from SOLOMON safely.

She heard the gentle, rumbling sounds of a car pulling up, and she peered out of her window into the darkness—she could just make out one of the Coven members' vehicles, and three passengers...most likely a late-night patrol of some sort.

The young chestnut-haired witch sighed, her thoughts flying back to her absent partner. It was not the scenario she had hoped for, for them—far from it—and her heart grew heavy simply thinking of his departure…but, rather that, than force the undesirable alternative on him.

She took another deep breath. _Courage. I must be strong._ This was for Amon's benefit, and she couldn't think of only herself at this time.

_But you will miss him,_ a part of her whispered, _you will miss him, terribly…because you **love** him, and letting him go is like losing a part of yourself now._ Robin winced at the accuracy of her inner voice's insight. _You love him…and not in the way you are supposed to love a warden, either—not in a holy, or platonic way—not in the way you are supposed to love the Lord. You love Amon with every fiber of your being—with parts of yourself that you shouldn't even be **aware of**._

Weak. She felt weak. Robin despaired.

A knock sounded on her suite door, followed by Seth's soft tenor. "_Tesoro? Posso?_" she heard him ask, and she turned away from the dark window, back towards the candlelit center of the room.

Seth would not likely approve of what she was to tell him—but there was nothing that was about to change her mind, now.

"_Entrari,_" she allowed softly.

"Still up and not sleeping, _tesoro?_" he asked as he entered, his face registering concern.

She shook her head. "_È lei?_" she asked politely, to which his expression became anticipatory.

"There is another Hunt tonight," he said, his blue eyes gleaming in the candlelight of the dim room. "We just received word of it; we'll be heading into Siena, it should be—"

"I'm not going," she said with gentle iron-in-velvet authority; and his face fell.

"_Perché?_" he asked, recovering his smile quickly, as though to hide his disappointment; but Robin could detect a measure of irritation in his eyes.

"I think there is something you should know about me," she said quietly, her hands demurely clasped before her pilgrim's dress. "I'm not like other Witches."

Seth paused, jaw tightening as his smile dissipated. "_Si,_" he said slowly, methodically; and for a moment Robin could catch another unspoken nuance in the simple affirmative statement. "I can see that."

xXx

Amon pushed the pedal to the floor, the BMW's speed maxxing out at over one hundred miles an hour, on the stretch of highway towards Grosseto.

He was simultaneously on his cellular—which he always carried, even if he never turned it on—trying to reach Robin's room. From the first day they had arrived to stay with the Coven, he had memorized her number, in the event he needed to get in contact suddenly. He'd avoided using the cell phone so far while in Italy, for the obvious reason that their location could possibly be traced; but now, however, satellites be damned.

"_Ch'kso,_" he growled, as he got a pleasantly recorded message in Italian, presumably informing him that the line was disconnected. He let his eyes waver momentarily from the road to redial, rechecking the number; the car swerved erratically.

Again, the same disconnected notice. "_Fuck!_" he hollered uselessly, redialing again. And again.

Several more colorful epithets later, Amon tossed the worthless phone onto the passenger seat. He reached for his sidearm, using his knees to balance the steering wheel as he checked the magazine of the gun.

Four rune-marked bullets.

He would have to make them count.

xXx

"I know now why Amon left," Robin said, softly but certainly. "And I know that he is not coming back."

Seth's eyes underwent another change, but he said nothing.

"I have the ability to affect Seeds, and turn them into Witches—they respond to my presence," she asserted. "I am an animator." Her eyes slipped from holding his gaze to a spot lower in the room, as she reflected. "Amon is still a Seed, and he cannot bear to awaken…and that is why he runs from me." She looked back up at Seth. "I understand it, now."

He watched her, fascinated by her calm resignation. "You aren't sad, that he runs from you in such a way?"

"I have to accept it," she said quietly. "But I also understand why the hunter we targeted tonight, Mita, awoke in front of me…and as a result, I feel it is not acceptable for me to hunt with you, any longer."

"And why is that?" Seth asked.

"There are many SOLOMON hunters who are not awakened yet," she answered, her voice strengthening, "and you would use me, during Hunts, to awaken them."

"There is a problem with this?" he asked, feigning good-natured humor; but his façade disappeared upon her reply.

"Destroying them, before they can even develop a Craft to defend themselves—before they even truly know what it is to be a Witch, and to Hunt your own kind—is wrong," Robin answered. "They need to awaken, to see the truth for their own eyes. What you are doing is no better than what SOLOMON does to the general population."

He paused, realizing he was losing this battle. "_Tesoro,_" Seth implored, "I need your help, to do this—"

"I won't do it," she said softly, standing her ground. "It's wrong...as was your assessment of Mita, herself—she was going to abandon the Hunt. I cannot, in good conscience, assist you anymore. _Mi scusi,_" she added, as a polite afterthought.

He watched her carefully, scrutinizing, for a long moment. Finally he sighed, appearing cowed, and spread his hands compliantly before him.

"I respect your convictions, Robin," he said, his voice gentle; and her posture straightened. "You are justified for feeling that way, and I understand." She bowed her head slightly as a token of gratitude. "You have been very beneficial to us, and for that you have my appreciation...you are still free to stay here, with the Coven, as long as you would like."

"_Grazie,_" she answered calmly, "but I will be leaving shortly."

"Where are you going?" Seth asked; but when he saw she wasn't about to answer, he persisted. "How are you even going to get where you're going to, then?"

"Someone in town will be able to help me," she offered, resolute.

He ducked his head, sighing again, and stepped forward. "Before you go, _tesoro,_ I'd like you to come out to the courtyard...I know it is late, but there is someone here that I think you should meet. They probably feel very similarly to you, and might be able to help you, somehow."

She took a breath, uncertain—perhaps she should just leave, and be done with it—but Seth's beseeching gaze held her where she was. Even though she did not entirely agree with his methods, he had been gracious and kind to her. She could not refuse him this last request.

"_Si,_" she answered, and followed him to the door. He opened it for her, allowing her to pass through first; taking one last sweeping look through the room—settling briefly on the cut phone cord below the desk—before he exited it himself.

xXx

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How could you be so fucking stupid, Amon..._

He pulled the car aside abruptly as he neared the top of the drive towards the _castello_, realizing that he would have to go in on foot. The trees covered the car—it wasn't likely that anyone would discover it here, and the darkness would hopefully cover him while he ran in to get her. He got out, rechecking his sidearm, and started off at a sprint towards the castle.

Out front, two cars were sitting in the turnabout, in front of the castle entrance; one of which looked suspiciously like Seth's Jaguar, the other most likely belonging to one of the other Coven members. Amon snuck around the ground floor on the side, headed for Robin's window. Ducking low as he passed the other windows on the floor, he came upon hers and peered in. Empty.

"_Fuck._" She was somewhere inside the castle; he would have to sneak in, increasing his chances of being discovered.

He ducked underneath the ground floor windows again, heading for the front entrance. To his surprise, the door was slightly ajar...he eased it open gently, just enough for him to squeeze through...and then he was enveloped in the darkness of the foyer.

He waited for half a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the near-pitch-blackness before proceeding—when suddenly the ringer on his cell phone went off. Loudly.

Amon cursed and silenced it, glancing at the backlit numerical display. _Nagira?_ He was so angry at his half-brother's total disregard for preserving his secrecy, that he actually answered it. "_Nani!_" he hissed.

"AMON, FUCKING GOD I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU, YOU ASSHOLE," Nagira shouted on the other end, and Amon simultaneously held the cellular away while turning its volume down. "You don't know how many times I've—"

"Goddammit, Nagira, I told you not to use this line!" Amon spat lowly into the phone. "What the hell is the matter with you!"

"Will you _just shut up a minute!_" Nagira practically screeched. "I've been trying to reach you to tell you that you need to get yourselves the _fuck_ out of there, _right now_—"

A gun barrel nudged up against the side of Amon's head interrupted his brother's ranting. "Good advice," the haughty, clipped female voice said from the darkness. _Hedya._

Amon brought the hand holding the cellular hard and backwards, smacking Hedya's pistol away with the phone. It flew from her grasp as she grunted painfully, and he hoped with a mild vengeance that he'd at least broken her wrist. At the same time, he drew his sidearm from inside his jacket.

Before he knew what had happened next he heard the air hiss around him; he felt something slice his trigger arm at the wrist, and he gave a sharp gasp of pain as he dropped his gun. His blood ran hot and thickly down his arm, and he tucked it into his jacket, bending over it, putting pressure on the wound. The cut looked like it had nearly gone to the bone. Before he could begin to recover from the blow, another invisible blade slashed against his breastbone—a shallow cut, but the pain caused him to sink to his knees.

He could hear Gideon's sneering chuckle from his other side, and in the background Amon could hear his half-brother's voice still faintly calling his name, from the abused cellular on the floor.

Hedya stepped on the offending phone with her boot, effectively crushing it. She had picked up her pistol again, holding it expertly with her other hand. "It's a good thing I'm ambidextrous," she mused, before her features hardened again and she pressed it once more against Amon's head, Gideon moving forward to bind him.

xXx

Robin walked slightly ahead of Seth, through the hallway towards the courtyard. It was unnaturally quiet, and unnaturally dark and empty, even for two hours past midnight; the members of the Coven, she knew, had habits of staying up well into the wee hours of morning.

She entered the courtyard; walking forward, she could see that the area was lit with burning torches, could smell their acrid scent mixed in with the cool night air—and she felt a wash of familiarity over her, something that seemed like it had been a dream once...too faint to possibly be a memory. Her footsteps slowed; Seth put his hand chastely against her lower back, to urge her on.

Then she saw the Coven, gathered in what could be construed as a rough outline of a triangle—and she stopped in her tracks. In the center of it stood a man with a dark hood over his head; tall, regal-looking in black robes...his hands bound together in front of him with twine, his fingers creased and worn in a well-known pattern that she recognized instantly.

She stood, frozen, even as Seth tried to push her further forward. _I know those hands._

Leor and Noa—whom Robin remembered had been absent until tonight—stood close to the hooded man, Leor with a firm grip on the man's arm. The remainder of the Coven turned to look at her as she stood outside of the triangle, their faces blank, their expressions remote.

Robin's lip trembled slightly, as she recalled the memory of the hands she saw now before her—turning the sacred pages of the Holy Book; outlining the sign of the cross over his heart—she recalled the gentle feel of them on the crown of her head, as she said her prayers, kneeling before him.

"_Juliano,_" she whispered, so faint that he couldn't possibly have heard it—but the hooded man turned towards the sound of her voice.

Leor reached forward and pulled the blinding article off; Juliano stood before her, his white hair rumpled from the hood, his aged eyes squinting as they became accustomed to the fire-lit surroundings.

He looked towards her, and she felt her heart lurch up wildly into her chest. She was unable to move in her surprise, even when he addressed her by name.

"Robin," he said, in the low and sturdy voice she had grown up revering. His voice was steady, without fear—but there was a heart-wrenching sadness now in her grandfather's eyes.

Seth had left her side, approaching the outer end of the gathering towards Juliano with a slow and steady stride. "One of the most influential men in SOLOMON; famous for training the most elite Craft-Users the organization has ever seen; the Master Hunter, Father Juliano Colegui," he said, by way of introduction. He casually removed a cigar from the pocket of his slacks, holding it between his fingers as he regarded the aged priest. "What an honor. How fares the monastery in Pisa, _Padre?_"

Robin looked from Juliano to Seth in confusion, and back again, still suspended in a paralyzing haze of disbelief.

Juliano was now glaring at the blond Witch standing before him. "Oh come now," Seth entreated, baiting him, "I can ask, can't I?"

"Spare me the false pleasantries," the priest said, slowly, "and do what you have brought me here, to do." Robin's breath felt as though it were being squeezed out of her lungs; Seth's demeanor changed from amused to moderately irritated.

Still holding the unlit cigar in his hand, his head lowered, Seth circled the priest slowly. "Juliano Colegui," he began sternly, "you are in direct violation of SOLOMON's prime objectives." Now Robin turned to look at _him,_ her mouth open in stunned dismay and confusion. "For not disclosing your full knowledge of the details of the termination of Project Robin, sixteen years earlier; for initiating an agenda that is contrary to SOLOMON's objectives; and for aiding and abetting the enemy of God."

Robin was aghast. _Violation of...SOLOMON..._ She could not look away from Seth, unbelievingly. _He has lied to us._

"_She_ is not the enemy of God," Juliano's firm timbre resonated throughout the courtyard, causing several of the Coven members to shiver at the sound. "You of the Cabal have neglected His true Work now, for far too long."

"You betrayed all of us, by allowing her to live," Seth said icily, "and you shall be punished for it."

"_And you who have sown the wind,_" Juliano countered, his voice gaining strength and scorn, "_shall reap the whirlwind._"

Seth turned to Noa, giving her a brief nod as a signal. To Juliano, he said casually as he turned away, "It's a pity your Craft is useless now, _Padre._"

Noa drew a pistol from where she stood behind the priest, and a shot rung out in the silence following his harsh edict; Juliano's body seized up, his face registering pain and surprise, before he fell forward.

A gasp went up from Robin, and she rushed toward the fallen priest, who was now on the ground within the triangle. She fell to her knees before him, crying out, her mouth a rictus of horror. "_Juliano!_"

Seth calmly went about lighting his cigar with a match, sheltering the end with his hand in the cool night breeze.

Her grandfather slowly dying in the dust of the courtyard, Robin gently turned him over onto his back, resting his shoulders on her knees. She held his head tenderly. "_Padre,_" she whispered, tears flooding her vision and beginning to course down her face. _Oh God...not this way. Please...not this way... _

His eyes were still open. "_Mia bambina,_" he managed softly, "_tutto va bene..._I have had this a long time...in coming." He breathed heavily through his mouth. "I have...cheated many...but Death is the one we cannot cheat."

She wiped a grime of dirt from his cheek and took one of his bound hands in her own, her attention so focused on him that she did not see the figure dragged into the entrance of the courtyard.

"He humbles us..." Juliano continued, rasping, "makes honest men...of us all." He attempted something of an ironic smile. "And _she,_" he said, gazing up at her and squeezing her hand gently, "comforts us...in our last hour...of need..."

His watery blue eyes, still fixed on her and clouding with impending death, softened then in a way that she had never before seen, in all her childhood years growing up with him. The sight decimated her, brought fresh tears to her own eyes; her lips trembled with the effort it took not to completely fall apart, as he took his last breaths. She knew he was beyond speech now; it was his only means of telling her that he loved her.

"_Ti voglio bene, nonno,_" she whispered, and leaned in to kiss his forehead as she felt him grow still in her arms. Her tears flowed unbidden as she gently lowered his head to the ground.

She raised her head to look angrily back up at Seth, who was watching her intently, thoughtfully rolling the cigar between his fingers; as she did, the torches surrounding the courtyard flickered, abruptly growing brighter and gaining in strength. A familiar fire began to emerge from within the watery emerald depths.

Seth took notice of the activity of the torches around them, and held up a hand in her direction. "You shouldn't be doing that," he cautioned; and pointed to the other end of the courtyard. Robin's eyes followed, widening at what she saw.

_Amon._ He had been presumably dragged in from somewhere—his hands bound behind his back—and he was in pain. His own blood decorated his dark clothing in splotches across his chest and torso.

He had been silent while she was on the ground holding Juliano, affording them their final goodbye to one another; but he called to her when he saw her look towards him. "Robin!"

She stood, an anxious expression on her face, as Hedya's gun barrel pressed itself against his chest.

"You see, we have a dilemma here," Seth spoke around his cigar, conversationally.

Amon interrupted him. "Robin, incinerate them," he ordered. "_Burn them!_" She hesitated, wincing.

"_Non,_" Seth shook his head, waving his cigar in a no-no fashion. "If she does, we shall be forced to shoot you, Amon. We don't _want_ that to happen." He looked meaningfully at Robin. "Besides, I'm not quite certain she has the capability right now, as it is."

A stricken look flashed briefly in Amon's eyes. "Robin," he said again; she looked down in confusion and uncertainty.

"I had thought that perhaps Robin would be able to use her talents with us, as easily as she utilized them with you, Amon," Seth went on. "But it appears that she has become so enamored of you—_imprinted_ on you, so to speak—that her flame only works under your guidance." He shook his head. "That is not going to appease the ones I report to."

Robin recalled a flash of memory; Sela and Seth, arguing in the dining hall, about reporting to a mysterious entity whose orders he was disobeying...

"You killed Sela," she whispered in realization; Seth turned to look at her, menacing anger growing in his eyes.

"As it is," he continued, his voice becoming more vehement, "we have known all along what Robin is—the Devil's Child, _il demonio_—thanks to Amon's friend Touko, who recovered data files that her father had transferred..."

Amon shut his eyes and hung his head. _Oh my God._

"...with which we were able to get an idea of what Toudou had been trying to accomplish," Seth finished. He turned back to Robin.

"If you will allow yourself to be taken in willingly by SOLOMON, then no harm will come to Amon," he said, his voice lowering with solemn promise. "I give you my word, _tesoro._"

The dark hunter was shaking his head in denial. "Robin, for God's sake, he's _lied_ to you!" he yelled across the courtyard.

"I have been untrue, yes," Seth admitted, his eyes never leaving the chestnut-haired witch's. "But this I am not lying about. Amon will not be harmed if you turn yourself over to us peacefully."

She looked at the ground.

_God has forsaken me, after all,_ she thought. _...Everyone around me, close to me, dies. And I am the cause of it. If I am 'hope', why do I cause so much suffering?_

She looked calmly back across the courtyard, at her bound guardian, bleeding and bruised; despite his pleading, his wild and frightened eyes, despite his concern for her—he still feared her, and what she could do to him.

_I can't make him become what he is afraid to...and I won't let him forfeit his life for me again, as he nearly did before. _

_I love him. So, I will do this...for him. _

Robin turned her eyes again to Seth. "Swear it," she said, with all of the staunch authority she could muster in her voice. Then, despite her belief that he had abandoned her— "_Swear it to God._"

Amon, who had been holding his breath while holding her gaze, fell apart. "NO!" _Goddammit, Robin!_

"I swear to God, Amon will be spared," Seth assured her, looking into her eyes as he covered his heart with his hand.

She turned her eyes once more to him, held captive on the other side of the courtyard—Amon was shouting at her, begging her to fight, begging her to set them all aflame; begging her to not give up on his account. Seth was nodding quickly at Leor, who had produced a syringe filled with an amber-colored fluid and was cautiously approaching her, lest she change her mind.

She felt Leor take her arm, firmly and roughly; she felt him drag the sleeve of her pilgrim's smock up to her elbow, exposing her vein, she felt the prick of the needle sliding into her skin and felt him depressing the syringe, releasing the fluid. Her eyes remained on Amon, even as she felt the tranquilizer instantly take effect; she heard his voice calling her as though she were underwater, softly muted and slightly warbled from her own pulse pounding in her ears. Her breathing grew heavy and slow as her body began to relax—she struggled to keep her eyes on him, but she felt her consciousness slipping away like sand through her fingers.

Amon was beyond consolation. He watched with horror as she allowed the administration of a tranquilizer, and he struggled against his own captors' restraints, shouting her name over and over again, demanding she act. His resistance and shouting abruptly ceased, as her features began to change and lose their shape before his eyes—to be replaced with his mother's.

Matoko looked at him sadly from across the courtyard with the same expression Robin had worn, resolute and sorrowful. _You're so precious to me._ He blinked, unbelieving, and again the visage was that of the young chestnut-haired witch, her vivid green eyes unfocussed, unsteady on her feet from the effects of the drug.

She slid to the ground, and Amon was forced to his knees by his captors in the dirt, his hands still bound behind him, his posture slumped in total defeat...his eyes watering, his mouth working without sound. Unaware of anything else around him, Amon did not care at that moment if he were to die—it would have been something of a welcome relief.

Instead, he heard the mumble of voices behind him, and then there was a crushing pain to the back of his skull—presumably a pistol whip—followed by merciful blackness.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Next chapter:

Apocalypse of Adam ... The Secret of Secrets...The Testament of Solomon. She who is called the End of All Flesh, Succubus, the Black Moon, the End of Days—shall be punished and put on display before God. Chapter 18.

* * *

Italian/other translations: 

_Duat_: (Egyptian) The Egyptian Afterworld, ruled and judged by Osiris and sometimes Amon-Ra.  
Buono Dio: Good God  
cacciatore: hunter  
La Matrona: The Mother  
niente è facile: nothing is easy  
buono: good  
Nani: (Japanese) What  
tesoro: darling, treasure  
posso: may I  
entrari: enter  
È lei: and you  
Perché: why  
Ch'kso (slang form of "chikuso"): (Japanese) Dammit  
Mi scusi: I'm sorry  
Grazie: thank you  
Padre: Father (priest)  
Mia bambina: my child  
tutto va bene: all is well, it's all right  
ti voglio bene, nonno: I love you/wish you well, grandfather

* * *

A/N: Just wanted to list a couple of quote sources: 

The line Jana says to Amon, "People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant," is a quote from Helen Keller.

Juliano's defiant quotation of scripture to Seth is from the Bible, Hosea 8:7 : "For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind."

Also, the song quote in the beginning (on The Renewal website), "The Scientist" by Coldplay, is a tribute to the amazing WHR music video ( by a person by the online name of cesselle1917) that I saw a couple of months ago on AMV(dot)org,using the same song. It was so moving—and fit exactly in with this particular chapter—that I had to incorporate it somehow. Cesselle, if you're reading this—thank you, for making such an awesome video.

;.; Heh heh. Hope you all don't hate me now. Chapters 18-20 coming soon.


	19. Chapter 18: Lilith

A/N: I have no excuse, just please don't shoot me for taking so long.

Disclaimer: WHR is not mine. I make no money off of this.

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 18: Lilith**

* * *

Faust: Who can that be?  
Mephistopheles: Observe her with great care! That's Lilith.  
Faust: Who?  
Mephistopheles: Adam's first wife. Beware  
That lovely hair of hers, those tresses  
Which she incomparably delights to wear!  
The young man whom she lures into their snare  
She will not soon release from her caresses.  
---"Faust" by Johann Wolfgang Goethe

"The female of Sama'el is called Serpent,  
Woman of Whoredom,  
End of All Flesh, End of Days.  
She bedecks herself with all kinds of jewelry, like an abhorrent prostitute posing on the corner to seduce men. The fool who approaches her-- she grabs him and kisses him, pours him wine from the dregs, from the venom of vipers.  
As soon as he drinks, he strays after her. Seeing him stray from the path of truth, she strips herself of all her finery that she dangled before that fool, her adornments for seducing men:  
her hair all arranged, red as a rose,  
her face white and red,  
six trinkets dangling from her ears,  
her bed covered with fabric from Egypt,  
on her neck all the jewels of the East,  
her lips beautiful, red and sweet with all the sweetness of the world.  
This fool follows her, drinks from the cup of wine, fornicates with her, deviates after her. What does she do? She leaves him sleeping in bed.  
That fool wakes up and plans to play with her as before.  
But she removes her decorations, and turns into a powerful warrior confronting him.  
Arrayed in armor of flashing fire,  
her awesome terror vibrates the victim's body and soul. She is full of fearsome eyes; in her hand a sharp-edged sword drips bitter drops.  
She kills that fool and flings him into hell."

---Zohar, Sitrei Torah 1:147b-148b

* * *

xXx

xXx

xXx

* * *

He recalled an old memory, one he hadn't thought of in many, many years. 

It was in Europe, two years after the incident with his mother. Still a young boy, but he now possessed an awareness of something dark, an understanding that sinister elements were all around him. This awareness manifested itself in his refusal to smile, in his anti-social behavior and inherent mistrust of others, in his calculating gray eyes.

Nevertheless, it didn't seem to faze her. She stood before him, gazing at him with what he thought of as an unsettling combination of affection and hopefulness over her very swollen and very pregnant belly.

The Japanese man he'd been introduced to was telling him the woman's name, but Amon wasn't entirely listening. He was studying her carefully, momentarily entranced by her long sweep of chestnut-blonde hair and sparkling verdant eyes.

"Amon-san," she said gently, her smile more evident in her eyes than on her lips; and she leaned down slightly to extend a slim, white hand, presumably in greeting.

He stared at it. He'd known she was obviously not Japanese, but this confirmed it beyond anything; he had no intention of shaking her hand. He nodded at her, instead.

The woman retracted the hand, not in the least disheartened by his indifference. "How old are you, Amon-san?" she asked.

"Nine," he answered solemnly. Then, without having been prompted, he spoke again, which was unusual for him. "Almost ten."

"_Sugoi,_" she said with quiet happiness, still smiling at him with that strange, hopeful expression. Amon was not used to people paying so much attention to him, much less having them smile at him so often. It made him distinctly uncomfortable.

The man standing beside her was telling Amon that they were to travel to Japan, which was why she was brushing up on her _nihongo_. They were leaving soon, he said, and would have to be on their way. Amon ignored the man again, and instead focused on the woman who appeared so enamored of him…why did she seem as though she were happy to see him, even during such a brief meeting as this?

"Take care, Amon-san," she whispered, leaning forward as much as she could despite her enormous belly to deliver the words as quietly as possible. "Keep yourself safe, and alive." Again her half-smile returned.

"You will do something very important, someday..."

_...someday..._ The woman's words were interspersed in his mind with that of someone else's, something told to him years ago...something he'd tried hard to forget, and was just now surfacing in his memories...

_...someday... ...someday..._

_... someday you will know when the right time is—_

—_protect what is—_

—_you are so precious to me—_

xXx

Amon's mind passed into another moment of lucidity sometime later. He could hear and feel—the sounds of tires on pavement, the swaying of his body with the movement of the car—but he could see nothing but darkness. A small strip of cloth was wound tightly against his face; hazily he deduced he'd been blindfolded. He willed himself to be still so as not to alert others. Voices…members of the Coven were speaking in low tones all around him; yet he could not pick up either Seth's smooth timbre, nor Robin's soft whisper in the quiet cacophony.

…_Where?_

Amon focused on controlling his breathing, to sustain the illusion that he was still asleep. It seemed that the only possibility open to him was to wait for an opportune moment…whenever it presented itself.

_Be calm,_ he thought, in an effort to assuage his unease. _Control your fear._ But behind closed lids, he saw Juliano Colegui on the ground, bleeding; he saw Robin holding her fallen grandfather, tears coursing her face; he saw the defeat in her gaze when she looked upon him, hopelessly devoid of that stubborn will she'd so often displayed. That single look in her emerald eyes had nearly destroyed him—had virtually laid waste any shred of hope still simmering within him.

_Be calm._ It was easy enough to think such thoughts; but practicing them was another thing entirely.

His discomfort turned, as it so naturally was wont, to anger. _Goddammit, Robin, how could you listen to him?_ he wondered, recalling Seth's empty promise. _How could you **trust** him, after what he did?_

Even if Seth had miraculously told the truth and he wasn't to be harmed, Amon couldn't comprehend how she could turn herself over so easily to them. She knew how important her survival was as the Eve; to Toudou, to Juliano, to Maria, to Jana...

_...Didn't she?_ he asked himself. Belatedly and with trepidation, he realized all but one on that list were already dead.

_How could she not have known?_

He wondered now what had happened to that unshakable faith he'd witnessed, both in Japan and in Sovana, when they had realized they were being hunted. Robin had been forthright and cunning, strong enough to inspire his _own_ faith, then…she had literally held him up following the first incident in Siena. She had bravely insisted they return to the city, to recover valuable information on Benedetto at the risk of both their lives.

But something had changed, recently. It was as if she'd crept into his head, been privy to his thoughts, and seen his own disillusion, his fear; she herself had conceded to it. Now she had surrendered, and they were at SOLOMON's mercy—of which he knew there would be none. He had an idea of what lay in store for Robin at their hands.

And he was powerless to stop any of it.

_The worst part is that _you_ are directly responsible. You pushed her away,_ he reminded himself. _When she needed you, you abandoned her. You denied her. Just as you did when..._

His self-hate was interrupted by the backtracking of his thoughts. _She needed you. Her Craft had weakened, and she needed you…she became stronger, in your presence…_

And if her origins were of the same design as his, crafted using genes from the divine lineage; then it meant that as she was the Eve…

…_I am the Adam._

The Adam of Witches. _Simultaneously God and the Devil, the Protector and Destroyer,_ Jana had said.

_The truth always has more than one side to it, Amon._

The sudden deceleration and subsequent stop of the car jolted him; Amon strained to listen as he heard Seth's voice, quiet and yet firmly authoritative.

"Remove him. Then take her to the inner chamber."

Just as suddenly, he felt a hand take his arm and push the sleeve upwards. He was startled, but didn't outwardly react until he felt the prick of the needle against his inner arm—then he struggled, blind and frantic, finally realizing what was happening.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it. The needle slipped easily into his vein, and he felt his consciousness draining once more, as a low Italian voice reached his ear.

"_Buon notte, Amon,_" the voice said, before darkness enveloped him.

xXx

She was once again at the Roman convent, with the priest whom had sheltered her as long as she had been able to remember.

Robin and Juliano said hushed prayers together in the dim light of the study. His warm, wrinkled hand covered the chestnut crown of her head protectively, paternally, as she knelt on the floor before him. The recollection was so vivid that she could smell the leather of the bound holy book open on a nearby table; she could feel the warmth of her grandfather's hand; she could hear the low tenor of his voice as he recited from the Scripture.

As immersed in it as she was, Robin knew it to be a dream. She knew he was gone. She fought to forcibly suppress the acute ache she felt at the memory of his death.

_There is a reason I am remembering this particular fragment of time with him, now,_ she thought; something encouraged her to pinpoint exactly when the moment had taken place. _I had just turned fifteen, four months prior...this was two months before I was to join the STN-J in Japan._

Juliano slowly lifted his weathered hand from her head upon completion of the prayer, sitting back in his chair as he observed her still kneeling at his feet. "_Mia bambina,_" he said quietly, in his reserved manner that neither implied nor lacked affection. She tilted her young face up to meet his eyes in response.

The priest removed a slip of paper from the folds of his dark robes. Concealed within the paper was what appeared to be a wrinkled photograph, worn with age.

"It is time, _bambina,_ that I honor my obligations," he said lowly.

Before she could ask the meaning of such a cryptic comment, Juliano was removing the photograph from the paper and holding it in such a fashion so that she could make out the figure. It was a man, a young man; short, ruffled dark hair that came just over his ears and brushed against the nape of his neck, chiseled features, dark eyes brimming with unyielding fury at the offending camera.

"This is the leader of the STN-J, whom you will be working with very closely; you are to be assigned as his new _collega_," Juliano went on to explain, as he handed her the photograph and she examined it with interest. She cradled it in her hands, as if it were a precious thing. "His name is Amon.

"It is a few years old, the picture. He was twenty-two at the time this was taken; he is twenty-five years old now," he told her, as she studied the image carefully. "He is a cautious man...few are able to get close to him, even fewer know him. When you arrive in Japan—in addition to your other task that I have debriefed you on, the search for the _Arcanum_—you are to report back to me as to the status of Amon's Craft, if it has yet awakened..."

Already Robin's attention was diverted; she heard and understood the words the priest spoke, but she was absorbed with studying the angular lines of the photographed man's face, the sensuous yet stern curve of his lower lip; the molten silver quality of his dark gray eyes. She could not take her eyes off of it for one moment. Robin had never before been assigned a partner while working for SOLOMON in Italy; she had done reconnaissance on her own, and hunted, mostly in the background, with Juliano or other Masters of the Craft. Now she was to be assigned to someone, to work closely with someone—to become a part, a half that contributed to a whole. The idea was immensely pleasing to her.

_Amon,_ she thought to herself, saying his name aloud in her thoughts, imprinting it on her consciousness. _Amon._ Even later that night in her room, after the nuns had gone to sleep, she pulled the picture out from where she had tucked it away behind her pillow, and gazed at it again in the moonlight.

_My partner, Amon._ By the time she had arrived in Japan to join the STN-J, Robin had memorized every aspect of the young man's features. She had envisioned his face changing as he spoke to her; she had lain awake at night, wondering what the timbre of his voice sounded like. She had been anticipating their first meeting, as partners, with a childishly exuberant excitement.

_That was why I was staring at him so curiously that day at Harry's,_ she reflected, recalling the moment they'd passed each other in the hall. _I had recognized him from his picture._

Another voice, that of a young woman, asked in her head, _But is that why?_

_Che?_ Robin blinked, and the scenario at Harry's faded from her mind's view. She attempted to place the formless spoken words; she had heard the Witch Methuselah speak in her mind this way to her before, but this was far more youthful a sound and did not resemble the deceased Witch's voice.

In her dream, she saw herself surrounded by darkness; she heard the invisible voice all around her. Her mind's eye focused to find the source, if it had a physical shape...

_Is that why you recognized him? From the picture?_ the voice asked gently. _It was many years old. Is that where you truly knew him from? _

_What do you mean?_ Robin asked, her confusion beginning to replace her curiosity as to the voice's origin. _I don't understand. _

The softly spoken words continued in her head. _Who _is_ Amon?_

Robin struggled with her reply. _He is...my partner...he is my warden,_ she answered, but she could feel the waves of disapproval radiate from the disembodied voice. _He is...he..._ She faltered.

_The names heard in the world, deceive,_ the hushed female voice replied quietly, knowingly; and Robin's curiosity was piqued again. It sounded so familiar, this voice...

The next words, however, were delivered in a slightly scolding tone: _As you know that Seth has deceived. What have you done, surrendering yourself so? Amon needs you, needs you to be alive, with him...you cannot give up hope so easily._

_I have done this for Amon,_ Robin insisted sadly, resolutely, _to save his life._

_Have you saved his life...or condemned it, along with your own?_

Robin's dream mind recoiled at the prospect. _Condemned it?..._

_How long do you think he will live, without you?_ the voice asked. _He cannot go back to them, knowing what he does now. It is impossible. _

Now the young chestnut-haired Witch was despondent. _But I can't be with him; he is afraid that I will bring his downfall, that I will cause him to become that which he fears... _

_And you believe his awakening to be his downfall?_ the voice asked. _You believe as he does, that he is the Devil?_

In her dream, Robin buried her head in her hands. _Non lo so. Non lo so…_ The world swirled helplessly around her.

xXx

In the quiet marble interior of the Siennese cathedral, seated on a rather uncomfortable stone bench, Seth waited impatiently. The late morning sun had already appeared through the stained glass windows, casting water-colored hues on the walls and floors. He gazed from time to time nonchalantly at the elegant mosaics of biblical and mythological scenes surrounding him, before dropping curt glances at his wristwatch.

He was growing restless; the Archbishop had been detained for the last hour or so, and he had business to attend to of his own. Granted, it was not nearly as _importante_ as the assembly of the Cardinals, but it was significant nevertheless.

It was not headquarters, he thought; but the secluded conclave in Siena that they were holed up in would do for now, particularly after SOLOMON had evacuated most of the civilian population. There was no sense in garnering unnecessary public interest over their activities.

He gazed around the interior of the _Duomo_ once more. There were worse places to be, no doubt. Siena was rich with history and myth. Perhaps this city, this church, was the very site where _she_ had first reappeared, after two thousand years—

He straightened and stood, as an adjacent door to the lobby opened, and watched as several men dressed in long red robes slowly exited the makeshift conference room, ducking their heads piously as they passed. Seth lowered his eyes reverently.

Finally a priest appeared in the doorway and motioned to him. "Archbishop Vasile will see you now, _signore,_" he said. Seth nodded and followed him inside.

Seated behind a mahogany desk, in an opulently decorated chair, was Vasile. The older man waved a hand towards the blond witch as he entered. "Come forward," he entreated.

Seth stepped inside the room as the priest exited and closed the door behind him. Turning and facing the Archbishop, he heard Vasile speak again.

"I apologize sincerely for making you wait, my son. The assembly of the College took longer than expected, this hour."

"_Non c'è problema,_" Seth responded, shaking his head dismissively. "I understand how busy you and the Cardinals are, _signore._" He folded his hands before him, in a polite gesture. "Because of this, I trust this will be a brief discuss—"

"What I have to say, will not take long." Vasile's manner had quickly turned serious with the interruption, and Seth was instantly alert. "First and foremost—where are they?"

Seth steeled himself. "They are both sedated, bound and blindfolded. She is in the cellar stronghold; he is imprisoned in the Duomo's tower."

The Archbishop nodded, then sat back slightly in his chair, eyeing the young man. "You know that we do not take kindly to ulterior motives, my son," he stated, slowly and carefully enunciating his words. Seth forcibly kept his expression completely blank.

"You were given _strict orders_ to turn Robin Sena into our custody, the instant you were able to comply; instead, you concealed the fact that she was in your possession, up until the last possible moment. You deliberately disobeyed us, Seth." The older man ducked his head as he continued, and Seth's eyes narrowed. "What is more, you willingly jeopardized the success of the entire effort."

Despite his anger, Seth respectfully kept the reproach from his voice. "Archbishop, _signore,_" he entreated, "it took longer than I had anticipated to make certain Sena was not an immediate threat, and to elucidate her weaknesses..." He attempted his argument further, but Vasile cut him off.

"We don't want to hear your excuses for why you have done so," the Archbishop seethed. "We want to know, with complete certainty, that _you will not do it again._"

Vasile's eyes then softened somewhat paternally. "Seth, you must understand that of the hunters your age, your skill level—_you_ are the favorite, _il figlio prodigo;_ it is why we have given you such responsibility at a young age, why we hand-selected you to lead this army of the Cabal, with such extremely talented Craft-users." Vasile cocked his head, his gaze roving over the young male Witch. "You are a great source of pride for us."

The Archbishop's praise wasn't softening the blow to Seth's ego. His features nearly livid, he waited as Vasile went on: "That said; we do expect a great deal of loyalty from you and from your Coven."

Barely disguising the anger in his voice, Seth unconsciously directed a rigid index finger towards the man in the chair before him. "I have _nothing_ to prove to you or the Cardinals, or to _anyone else_ in this organization for that matter," he seethed. "I have _always_ done as instructed, with regards to Hunts. I did as you asked, with Sela. I did as you asked with Juliano. I did _both_ of those things without question...without the _slightest_ hesitation."

He paused, collecting himself, and lowered his hand almost as a belated realization. His posture straightened. "I do not deserve to have my integrity challenged in this manner."

Vasile nodded slowly, appearing sympathetic but obviously skeptical. "Of course," he said, searching the young man's face with wariness. "But you understand, simply performing the tasks we set before you is not the same as showing us that we have your full trust, that there is no room for uncertainty in your work."

Seth eyed him levelly for a long moment. "There _is_ no uncertainty, _signore._" The finality in his voice, combined with his firm countenance, seemed to placate the Archbishop. The older man visibly relaxed.

"_Buono._" Vasile's eyes drifted down to the mahogany desk as he set about rearranging the paperwork before him. "Then I shall trust that you will allow us to take her out of your hands, so that we may effectively see to the plans that we have laid out for _la succube_ as soon as possible."

Seth carefully concealed a slight expression of distaste at the Italian used. To satiate his own curiosity, he asked, "And those plans entail what, exactly?"

Vasile glanced back up at him, his features suggesting he was surprised to hear such a question from the young Hunter. "_Il auto de fe,_" he replied easily, as though it should have been blatantly obvious, before returning to the task before him at his desk.

The blond Witch felt a lead weight settle in his gut at the response. _Auto de fe._ The 'act of faith'. Seth had not seen such punishment doled out in his service to the organization for several years; even so, the unpleasant memory of the last one witnessed still lingered on in his mind. He pursed his lips, his blue eyes deep in thought.

The realization that SOLOMON intended to put Robin to the stake had caught him off guard. He'd thought that if she were indeed unsalvageable, the least that would be done would be to end her life quickly, give her a swift and painless death…not such a torturous, drawn-out spectacle as this...

Seth found himself meeting Vasile's upward glance once more; he tightened his features carefully. He had just told the Archbishop there was no uncertainty within him, and he wasn't about to go back on his word now.

Giving a curt nod of affirmation, he turned to leave the room shortly thereafter, feeling the clergyman's eyes on him as he did.

xXx

The voice inside her head was relentless. The questions came at her from all sides.

_Is this purgatory?_ Robin wondered, absently.

_Amon's strength depends on your continued survival,_ the insistent voice chanted.

_Amon has turned away from me,_ Robin argued. _He does not want me to awaken him._

_You are Hope. His awakening is inevitable._

_Is it 'hope', to condemn the one person who has believed in me, to a fate he doesn't want?_ she responded, resentful. _I want what is best for him—if it means that he wishes to never awaken, then I do not want him to._

_So then you would give up, so easily? Now, when the fate of your kind stands upon a precipice?_

_Juliano's death was a sign,_ Robin insisted. _I have caused enough grief. God has abandoned me…it was a mistake to believe otherwise._

_Your God has done nothing of the sort. He will never abandon you; he is of you, and you are his._

'_My' God?_ she asked, in confusion.

_It has not dawned on you who he is? Do you know who _you_ are?_

Robin answered, _I am the Eve—_ No, not only that. _The villagers believe I am the Witches' pilgrim, Aradia…_

_You answer half-heartedly,_ the voice chided, _but you do not truly know what it means in your heart, to be that which you are. You must learn to make the same choices that you have, until now, punished others for making. You must take it upon yourself to know where both judgment and forgiveness lie. Are you ready for such tasks?_

_Judgement?_ The recollections of Jana's stories, excerpts of myth, came to her unbidden. _Aradia had been taught to work all witchcraft...how to destroy men of evil._

…_You shall bind the oppressor's soul with power...you shall teach the art of poisoning...ruin his harvest with tempest..._

…_The myth says that she was created from the fire of the eyes of Ra, as a creature of vengeance...to punish Man for his sins._

_And **I** determine what these sins are? **I** am the one who says right from wrong?_ Robin asked, incredulous. _Blasphemy…_

_Not everyone thinks as you do,_ was the response. _You will have to be strong, and benevolent, to earn their trust and respect. And you will have to punish those who stand against you, or all will be lost. _

Robin despaired. She had heard enough; she wrapped her arms around her thin frame. _Leave me alone,_ she whispered to it, as its chanting reverberated maddeningly throughout her mind. _I did only what I thought was right…it doesn't matter now. All is already lost. What is done cannot be undone._

The voice sighed gently. _Lost one, don't you know, by now? Nothing is ever done, _it whispered again, cajoling and nurturing;_ all is in constant motion—ending, beginning, ending again, and repeating. It is the endless cycle of renewal. _

_You were not meant to do this alone. This is the same place you both have been, before, over and over again... _

Recognition finally clicked, as the voice spoke; in her mind's eye, Robin pulled her head from the sanctuary of her hands. She turned her face upwards in the darkness, towards the compassion she had heard in the ghostly feminine whisper. _Mother? Is it you? Maria?_ she asked, hopefully, brightly.

The response was saddened. _You will find neither finality nor peace in death, Robin. You haven't, for as long as you have existed._

_And how long…have I existed?_ she wondered.

Silence.

_Mother_, Robin pleaded, turning round in circles in the darkness, searching for the comforting sound. _Mother, speak to me_.

But in lieu of the voice, she was inundated instead with a montage of images before her, colors and sounds and feelings. Memories; thoughts that were hers, and yet not hers—_This is the same place we've been, before?_

Two lovers, torn apart and wistfully pining for one another over an impossible distance, yearning and grieving; both reconciled to living out the remainder of their days in emptiness, without the other. _Amon…_

A young daughter, crying out for her father's arms as she's taken from him; screaming for him, calling his name. The agony of separation, as he watches her go, tears coursing down his face. Always, the ache.

_Amon, don't leave me._

A boy, standing over a freshly dug grave.

_Amon, don't make me leave you… _

It was almost too much to bear. So much pain…so much loneliness, and sadness. No end to it.

_Oh God…oh_, God, _I understand, now. It was you and I, the entire time. _

She remembered his face, the serene, gentle sadness—the acceptance—as the well closed above her in the basement of Raven's Flat; the harsh sound of her cries in the darkness afterwards, as she heard his body fall to the ground.

The look in his eyes—full of disbelief and helplessness, terror and love—as she calmly and purposefully surrendered to Seth in the torch-lit courtyard. _I understand now_. She wept; though her physical body was somnolent, tears trailed her cheek onto the cold hard ground she rested upon.

_Amon…all this time, parting, leaving…ripped apart from one another….and we never even have time to say goodbye. _

xXx

Walking along the short stretch outside from the _Duomo_ to the tower, Seth was lost in thought. Things hadn't turned out exactly as he'd thought they would.

For one, he was surprised at the insistence of the ritual of _auto de fe_. It was an archaic, outdated practice that in his opinion, bordered on barbarism. Centuries ago the 'act of faith' had been the norm for the eradication of accused Witches; however, with the advent of news and media, such ecclesiastical displays attracted too much public attention and were generally discouraged. SOLOMON was loath to allow the common public to scrutinize its actions. Perhaps this had been their plan for her all along, and thus the civilian evacuations from _il Campo_ and its surrounding area…

A part of him realized that he hadn't recently thought of the practice as barbaric, until that very moment. After all, he'd done his share of encouraging the young fire-Witch to incinerate their targets. Was it so different? Had this girl managed to influence him, so easily...?

"_Signore_," a Spanish-accented male voice said, slightly winded; he belatedly realized Chanan had caught up to him without his knowledge. "What is the word on the captives?"

Seth regained his wits. "Captives?" he asked, before it settled into his mind. He resumed walking. "_Si_. According to the Archbishop, we are to perform the _auto de fe_ tonight."

"For her?" Chanan confirmed, nodding succinctly as though he had guessed Robin's fate all along; Seth eyed the Spaniard warily. "And as for Amon?"

"_E non determinato a_." The blond Witch looked pensively out towards the center of _il Campo_, as they approached the tower.

Chanan nodded once more. "It is unwise to think that he will be able to re-assimilate back into the organization, so soon. I think it's advisable that he undergoes retraining, of some sort—"

"What do you think of the Lilith Doctrine?" Seth interrupted suddenly. Chanan looked at him in surprise.

"Lilith? She is a demoness, the sister-mate of the Devil," the Spaniard replied as they walked, "seductive and beautiful...but a killer. He acts through her: 'Deeds are wrought by Lilith with the power of Samael'..."

"I'm not asking you to regurgitate the Doctrine itself," Seth clarified, somewhat annoyed. "Do you believe that this girl, this Robin Sena, is the demoness that it speaks of?"

"_Sul serio_, you are asking me this? You know as well as I do, that the Cabal has denounced her as such."

"_Si, lo so_," Seth responded patiently, glancing around _il Campo_ as they talked. "But I'm not so sure the Cardinals are right on this one." He managed a half-smirk, despite himself. "I was expecting Lilith to be a bit more…_conniving_."

Chanan looked surprised, but upheld his belief nevertheless. "Regardless of whether she is conniving or not, Robin is that demoness."

"And what is the proof?"

"The proof is before our own eyes, _signore_," Chanan argued. "Look at her similarity to the descriptions of Lilith in the scriptures; 'a maiden from the head to the navel, and from the navel down, flaming fire.' This girl being able to have full-blooded Witches as children, as Lilith would bear nothing but demons. Toudou recreated her to spite SOLOMON—he says it himself, in his recording unearthed from Japan, calling her '_akuma no ko_', the Devil Child." The Spaniard's expression became one of impatient concern. "You have seen this footage."

"I have seen what parts of the footage that were retrieved, _si_," Seth replied testily.

"Lilith is a destroyer. As is Robin; she is dangerous," Chanan asserted, his voice a harsh whisper as they stopped before the entrance of the tower. "You cannot dispute that."

"No one can, and I certainly won't," the blond Witch offered. His voice lowered and became adamant. "But I have a bad feeling, about this. I refuse to believe that is the entirety of what she is capable of doing. Lore dictates differently..."

The Spaniard scoffed at his suggestion. "Still, with the myths. Your 'lore', as well as your 'Goddess', are both lies." Chanan continued, shaking his head. His voice became solemn and serious. "Seth, _signore_, let go of this nonsense. We played along for the sake of the girl and the Hunter, but we know Diana is nothing but a folktale; the made-up delusion of Witches. The facts are simple, and true. You make it more convoluted than it should be."

Ignoring Seth's icy glare, the Spaniard was subtly patronizing as he began to ascend the tower steps, his words trailing behind him in his wake. "You've read too much mythology, _signore._"

xXx

The boot collided hard with Amon's midsection, and he felt the breath being expelled too quickly and too painfully from his lungs.

"_Budiulo_." The kick delivered to the dark hunter's ribs was accompanied by Leor's low growl; Amon, blindfolded and hands helplessly bound behind his back, tuned the pain out as he was so accustomed to doing, as he had done his entire life.

With each blow he thought, Numb yourself. Cancel it out. He coughed out ragged breaths.

"Not so tough are you, now, _Amon_," Leor sneered contemptuously. He waited until the object of his abuse had slowly and painfully righted himself again to a seated position, before backhanding him roughly across the face.

"Arrogant son-of-a—"

"That's quite enough, Leor," Seth's voice intoned. Leor stopped, foot literally in mid-air, looking towards where Seth and Chanan stood from the cell's open doorway. The dark-haired Italian man paused reluctantly before stepping away from the prisoner.

Amon regained his breath, his chest heaving, and stared sightlessly ahead of him in the blindfold, not bothering to turn towards the voices by the door. They would speak to him soon enough, he was certain.

Footsteps came toward him, and a moment later he felt the blindfold being ripped away from his eyes. Amon blinked, squinting, allowing his eyes to adjust to the afternoon light coming into the window of the tower cell; he looked up, his disheveled dark hair framing his face.

Seth was smiling down at him. "_Buon pomeriggio_," he said, good-naturedly. "_Come va?_" Amon made no move to respond, lowering his gaze to stare straight ahead of him, his mouth fixed in line.

Seth's blue eyes flicked down to what the restraints exposed of the prisoner's arms. "I hear that the injuries that you sustained from Gideon are healing quite nicely," he commented casually. "Hedya said they barely needed new bandages this morning."

Not gifted with a response, the blond Witch walked nonchalantly to the open window, hands clasped loosely behind his back. "I hope you're not too uncomfortable up here," he remarked, gazing out at the scenery below. "Quite a nice view, although I realize you're not exactly at liberty to enjoy it from where you are. _Il Duomo's_ tower provides an excellent aerial view of _il Campo_ and the surrounding structure...there's nowhere else like it." He sighed appreciatively. "Siena is truly _magnifico_." He turned back to face the prisoner on the floor. "I'm sure you'd appreciate it, if you could."

Amon's vacant expression was unchanged.

Seth's eyes flicked towards the doorway where both Chanan and Leor still stood, before returning to Amon briefly. He looked away as he pulled a cigar from the pocket of his slacks. "Gentlemen, would you excuse us for a moment?" he asked, retrieving his book of matches from his other pocket and setting about lighting one. He lit the cigar, puffing on it vigorously, and looked back up to see both aforementioned men watching him with dumbfounded expressions. He removed the cigar from his mouth.

"_Partite_." Chanan and Leor shuffled out unceremoniously at the sound of the firm command, leaving confused glances in their wakes. The fortified cell door was shut behind them.

Seth turned again back to Amon. He watched the bound dark-haired hunter from across the stone tile room; Amon hadn't moved, looked, or even flinched as the cell door had been slammed shut. The blond Witch finally exhaled, a long-suffering sigh, and folded his arms across his chest.

"Not feeling particularly chatty today, hm?" he asked, conversationally. "_Capisco_. I imagine the events that unfolded between last night and this morning were very…unexpected." He rolled the cigar between his fingers thoughtfully, as he regarded his prisoner with expectation. "Still…I was certain that you would have some questions for me."

Still there was no answer. His patience beginning to wear thin, Seth offered a bait. "I would have thought, at the very least, that you'd be somewhat curious to know what we plan to do with the girl."

His gamble paid off. Amon raised his head, his dark eyes now fixed on Seth, the steel-gray hate burning through his only outward sign of emotion.

"You've lied about everything else up until now," Amon reasoned, his voice abrasive with disuse.

Seth nodded, as though to himself. "But you already know what her fate is, don't you, Amon," he said resignedly, wearily, watching as the dark-haired hunter's countenance hardened at the words.

He slowly paced the other end of the room, still casually brandishing his cigar. "You've heard of the _auto de fe_, haven't you?" he queried. "You've most likely never been witness to it; you were raised for the most part in the Orient. But perhaps you've heard of it. We do things much differently here, in the homeland." He paused, and saw that Amon waited for him to continue.

"It is, in essence, the ceremony accompanying the judgment by the Inquisition. In a matter of hours, this auto de fe will begin with a reading of the Testament of Solomon; the ancient, two-thousand year old doctrine describing King Solomon's control of the earliest known compendium of demons. In it, you'll find references to a certain female demoness held capture by him, who goes by a myriad of names. 'End of Days', the 'Black Moon'." Seth paused. "The one she is most commonly known as in Hebrew scripture is _Lilith_."

Amon's face changed to display anger and disbelief. Seth nodded at his reaction. "Yes, _miei amico_…what the scientist implied in the video is true. Robin is Lilith, reborn."

"You're lying," Amon rasped.

"Hardly." Seth resumed pacing across the cell. "Do you recall Toudou's exact words in the message he'd made for Zaizen? _Devil's Child. Eve of Witches_. Beyond wielding fire, Lilith in scripture is the mother of the _lilin_—which makes her the 'Eve' of full-blooded demons. Robin, according to Toudou, was destined to be the mother of our modern-day demons—Witches." Satisfied with his explanation, he replaced the cigar in his mouth momentarily, his expression calculating as he looked across the cell once more.

Amon understood then what he had already known on a conscious level, after the Coven's revelations the previous night: _the Witchcraft rituals we witnessed were just a farce, entirely for our benefit._

"Witches aren't demons," he asserted, his voice rough. "And neither is Robin."

A frown came over the blond man's face. "Witches have always been labeled 'demons', Amon," Seth replied vigorously. "You know this, as a member of SOLOMON; you know that because of their powers, Witches are more likely to yield to the temptations of evil, of demonic thoughts and possession." He regarded Amon thoughtfully. "I'm wondering why I have to explain this to you."

_You don't_, was the dark hunter's response in his own head. He had grown up with this indoctrination; it was nothing he hadn't heard before. Such power corrupted, too easily.

Seth went on, "If Toudou were to have had his way, Robin would have survived to bear an army of full-blooded Witches—not Seeds—powerful beyond compare, and totally destructive." He shook his head as he faced the prisoner on the floor. "Can you imagine it, Amon? They would be unstoppable; they would not spare those who were weaker. They would repopulate the earth, having obtained the ability to spread their genes in each generation. SOLOMON would fall, in such anarchy. Eventually humanity as we know it would cease to exist."

A realization dawned within Amon…_he hasn't been shown the entire tape._ Seth hadn't heard of Witches being worshipped as gods. He didn't know that a mutation had denied them as the successors of humanity; he didn't know that SOLOMON had directly interfered with evolution.

All Seth knew was that Robin was a 'Devil's Child', nothing more. _If he knew the entire truth…_

"Do you really want that on your conscience, _miei amico?_" Seth continued quietly, leaning against the wall. "God knows we already have enough on ours as Witches ourselves, you and I.

"Although…I suppose it's not entirely factual to label you as a Witch," Seth continued, approaching the prisoner on the floor and hunkering down to meet his eyes levelly, "seeing as you have never awakened to your Craft."

Amon turned his face away, his unease darkening into anger. They had obviously done their homework on him; he'd been played the fool, many times over.

Seth examined the dark-haired man closely. "They watched you for years, waiting for you to come into your power; all for naught." He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't blame you. I dreaded the emergence of my own Craft, cursed the moment it had awoken. I felt I lost part of myself that day." His eyes were momentarily far away, reflective.

He turned them on the prisoner once more, standing up. "Of course, there are some among us who believe that you might be just as dangerous, or even more so, than she is." Seth tipped the ashes on his cigar. "They are in the minority; but there are some who believe that a Samael, an 'Adam of Witches' exists, created by yet another researcher before Toudou's time. The counterpart to Robin's Eve." Unseen by Seth, Amon went completely still.

Seth finished his statement with a smirk. "Some of them believed that it was you."

Holding his breath, Amon felt his heart pounding out a painful new tempo within his ribcage. _The hunter that attacked us_, he thought, suddenly recalling the Craft-user in Siena who had targeted him, in lieu of Robin. He became acutely aware of how vulnerable he was, chained like this; Seth could kill him quickly and easily if he so chose.

But his dread was unwarranted; they had no tangible proof. He alone was in possession of Benedetto's journals—the sole works that implicated him as the Adam. Only he and Jana knew the entire truth of it.

Seth had no idea how close he was to that truth, now.

"However," the blond Witch continued, oblivious to Amon's internal discourse, "that notion was challenged when it was found that you were still powerless. Robin's Craft developed at an early age. It stands to reason that another such crafted witch would have done the same." Seth paced the room again as before. "Seeing as we can find no evidence from either Toudou, or any of his former colleagues to support the idea of an Adam, we can assume that it's pure conjecture at this point. Even," he turned back, "despite the fact that you, one of our best Hunters, Amon, took it upon yourself to abandon your duties as a SOLOMON operative in order to become her warden." His voice held a faintly amused lilt at the end.

Seth looked fondly at Amon now, a half-grin forming on his lips, shaking his head as though the dark-haired hunter were a misbehaving child. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning once more against the brick wall behind him. "Oh believe me, _signore_, I saw how you looked at the girl," he smirked, and Amon's blood turned to ice. "I even have an idea of what may have transpired between the two of you.

"Really, Amon," he drawled, "did you find it that necessary to go after the under-aged ingénue? You could have had any other woman you wished—I've seen pictures of this Touko Masaki, she's gorgeous," he inserted casually, "and yet, you chose to be the warden of one so young, it's nearly criminal for a man of your age." He lifted his chin. "To say nothing of what kind of man seduces a girl raised in a convent…"

When he received no outward response from Amon, Seth could not resist another bait. He moved closer, ducking his head in attempt to meet the other's lowered eyes, his words hushed and confidential. "Just entirely out of personal curiosity…I have to know." He stood directly over the prisoner, leaning down towards him. "We have not yet done a thorough examination of Robin, but I trust she is still…_unspoiled?_"

Seething with rage, Amon threw all of his seated weight forward as far as he could—the manacles holding his wrists behind him clinked as the chains secured to the wall were yanked taut. The sudden movement forward, accompanied by Amon's growl, startled Seth enough that he jumped back slightly in response.

"_God damn you_," Amon snarled, his chest heaving, dark eyes flashing hate.

Seth took several steps back, adjusting his sport coat in a subtle effort to cover how shaken he was at the sudden display of strength. "Well, if he damns me, then he damns you, too," he quipped dryly. "We're actually a lot alike, you and I, Amon."

He turned his face away. "The _fuck_ we are."

"We've both been in a position of authority, leaders of a team," Seth began, pacing the room again while watching the prisoner on the floor cagily. "We've both betrayed our comrades at some point. Let's face it," he said, cynically. "Betrayal is _il nome del gioco_, in our business."

Seth stopped, standing in the middle of the room and folding his arms. He spoke more quietly, "And, we both have looked to the women we've loved for redemption." He saw Amon raise his head, anger still glinting in the gray depths.

"I used to think as you did." A slow nod was delivered in Amon's direction. "There was a point in time, when I thought Sela and her love for me would be my salvation. That somehow, because she loved me, I would be forgiven for having these terrible powers, for doing these terrible things. Before things had taken a bad turn between us, I had this feeling that because she was with me, that my life might turn out all right…I clung to that, for a period of time." Seth frowned, his gold head bowed in reflection, as he forcefully brought himself back to the present.

"But unlike you, Amon," he turned on him, "I am a realist, and I know that there is no forgiveness for us...no salvation, and no forgiveness. There can be none, not for us. We are Witches; we have seen how cursed ones are with these powers. SOLOMON spared us in order that we have a duty to perform, a responsibility as members of the Army of the Cabal, to eradicate that wretchedness from the earth. And we will do it, and keep on doing it, until we are dead." He locked his eyes on the steel gray ones before him. "You _cannot shirk that duty_, Amon."

Amon regarded him coolly, his stoic mask in place once more as he delivered the choice words he'd been holding back since the previous night. "And was it your duty to murder the woman who loved you?" he asked bitingly.

He saw Seth pause; Amon wondered if he'd anticipated that comment. "Sela was no longer loyal to the organization," Seth asserted vehemently. "She was going to—"

"_Open your eyes_," Amon seethed impatiently, eyes narrowed. "You've seen their methods; you know the tricks they use to recruit. Even if you hadn't seen all there is of Toudou's video, you've been with them long enough to know the truth—"

"And just what is that truth?" Seth asked, masking his uncertainty with amusement.

"That the organization turns you against those whom you love." Amon's voice held a bitter edge. "That they turn families against one another—brother against brother…a father against his child…"

Annoyed, Seth interjected loudly. "It is not simply about breaking up families, Amon; these are dangerous Wi—"

Amon deliberately slowed and assuaged his tone. "…A son, against his mother."

As he spoke, he looked inwards and felt the strength of conviction behind the words. _A son against his mother._ It was the truth Vincenzo had hinted at; it was the truth that Robin had tried to make him glimpse, and that Jana had finally laid bare for him to see. It was the bitter-tasting truth that he had begun to accept.

Matoko. _It wasn't her fault_. The sadness that always hovered on the edge of his perception began to worm its way inside once more, seeping into his skin.

He watched Seth's face; watched as the blond man's features froze at the words, suspended in a telltale mixture of astonishment and grief. _Sou ka_, Amon realized, his heart weighted down by new knowledge. For the first time, he felt something akin to pity for Seth. _We do indeed have more in common that I thought_.

"There's more," he asserted, his voice regaining strength; he saw Seth's face become a neutral mask, probably aware that his grief had been exposed. "The operatives you targeted for death, for disobeying the Cabal—most of them were guilty of the same crime. They had lovers; they were defying the rule regarding personal relationships with other Hunters."

"What are you saying?" Seth demanded.

"They are afraid of something," Amon continued somewhat distractedly, working it out in his own head as he spoke. _Benedetto said, the Arcanum is sought after by SOLOMON not because they want so much to find it and use it...but because they wish to **suppress** it. _

Seth wore an expression of disbelief. "Afraid of Hunters in love with each other?" he asked, incredulously. "You're telling me that Sela was targeted because she was in love with me, and for no other reason? Amon," he scoffed, although it was not convincing, "you're even more delusional than I previously surmised."

Amon was recalling Jana's words…_the Arcanum, the Secret of Secrets, is the apocalyptic fate described in Revelations that SOLOMON seeks to prevent; the union that would initiate the equivalent of the biblical Judgment Day. It is the key to jump-starting human evolution. _

Human evolution. The union that would initiate it…the union...

_The Arcanum is not a single person… _

The villagers, celebrating them…lovers, being the target of hunts…the strange light and vision he'd seen in her bed—

The God and Goddess. The Adam and Eve of Witches. _It is_ _both of us…within our interaction is the ultimate technique, the lost wisdom of Witchcraft…_

…_**Robin and I, together, are the Arcanum.** _

Benedetto had uncovered it himself; through myth, lore, and the study of the Witch genome, he had solved the riddle of the Secret of Secrets. Through science, with Toudou's help, he had given rise to that which the organization had been trying to suppress for over three thousand years.

But because they had no idea until now who the Eve, nor the Adam was—Benedetto's work had been misplaced, and his remaining colleagues destroyed—and because the understanding of the Arcanum had been lost over millennia with only hints of its details…SOLOMON was targeting everyone. In their eyes, within every male and female Witch, more formidable together than separate, lay the potential for the emergence of the Adam and the Eve…

"…Samael and Lilith," he said quietly to himself. Sweat had broken out across his dark brow.

_You are to bring them to their knees_, Jana had said, speaking of the organization. But she had meant with Robin…and he was still powerless, and could do nothing.

He felt drained. He looked up to find Seth staring at him, blue eyes narrowing in calculation.

"What's going to happen to her?" he felt himself asking hoarsely, his throat having tightened up with the revelation he'd just experienced.

No longer interested in baiting his prisoner, Seth continued where he'd left off earlier; reciting with faraway eyes, as if by rote memorization. "The Testament depicts Solomon, in his wisdom, rendering the captive Lilith defenseless with his God-given signet ring. He orders her hair to be forcibly bound, as this also contributes to stripping her of her seductive power; and that she shall be hung up on a stake in front of the Temple of God—in this case, the _Duomo_—objectified, as a 'lesson to the children of Isreal'. This is what lies in store, for Robin.

"Then, she will be burned." He paused to let his words sink in, his demeanor deadly serious. "If she is fortunate, they will strangle her before the stake is lit, in an effort to prevent her from awakening and using her power on them. Her suffering will be minimized. Conversely, they might only sedate her, and use the greenest wood they can find…burning her alive as slowly as possible."

Fear crept along Amon's spine like crystals of ice. "Seth," he said lowly, "you know what you're doing is wrong. She is not evil, nor a demoness. _She is not Lilith_." He saw the blond Witch listening; he knew it, also.

"Let her go. My life for hers." It was half a lie—he wouldn't surrender himself either, he'd find a way to escape—but his main priority was to preserve Robin's life.

Seth turned his dazed eyes on the gray ones before him, a skeptic frown on his face. "You're not the one they want; you know that."

Amon tested the chains binding his wrists behind him to the wall, once more. It was no use.

He turned his eyes to Seth's again. "Help me," he said, with quiet anguish. "_Help me save her_."

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Seth backed slowly away from the prisoner on the floor.

"I believe I've heard enough of this now," the blond Witch said slowly, mechanically; as though some unseen control pulled at his strings. "I have to sedate you now, for the trip back to Rome tonight following the _auto de fe_…it would be in your best interests not to fight it."

"They'll betray you, the first chance they get," Amon warned, his tone taking on new strength as he witnessed Seth turning away to fetch the syringe. "They'd sooner kill you than tell you the truth."

Seth returned, syringe and drug in hand. Wordlessly he uncapped the needle, drawing up the liquid formulation from the small glass ampule. He pressed a button on his cellular; Leor and Chanan, having waited outside long enough, re-entered the room.

"Hold him down," Seth ordered. The two men flanked the prisoner and restrained him, holding his neck at an angle to one side to expose the jugular.

Amon spoke through his clenched jaw. "You're making a big mistake," he warned. "Seth—you know they're wrong about her. _Seth!_"

He struggled, ineffectually. The needle slipped into his vein. Leor and Chanan held him until moments after the contents had entered his bloodstream.

Already the feeling had begun to swallow him; the tranquilizer's effect was instantaneous. He began to pant out his breaths. Nevertheless, he still had some fight left.

"Gods," he said lowly, with a light slurring of speech. Seth turned towards him, interestedly.

"What was that, Amon?" he asked. Chanan and Leor snorted derisively.

"We were gods, once." Amon blinked heavily, attempting to focus. He didn't see Seth's expression changing, morphing into something resembling hesitant surprise. "Worshipped as gods…" Worshipped, and loved—if the Sovanan townspeople had been any indication.

Sovana. Robin would never see it again; she would never regain the happiness she'd found there, in their first few weeks during their stay with Jana. _Christ, you should have let her drink more wine_, he berated himself, _let her eat more figs. You should have let her be closer to you…she would have been happy._ Such little things had given her substantial joy.

His thought process was slowing. He was going to sleep. What was that, that Jana had said—or was it Benedetto? —_Adam_ had been asleep, _somnolent_, and had been awakened by Eve calling to him. _Perhaps_ _I'll hear her calling to me, when I'm under_, his tired brain suggested. He closed his eyes, more slowly and heavily.

"Only…devil," he mumbled. He could now barely keep his eyes open.

"What's he babbling about now?" Leor queried. Seth was listening again, intently.

"Only reason…she was called 'Devil child'," Amon continued quietly, disjointedly, "'s because she…she was…her existence…was meant to awaken the Devil hi—himself…" His body stayed upright for as long as he could hold it; eventually he sank backwards and went completely limp.

"_Fesseria_," Chanan interjected. "He's talking jibberish." Seth was still staring, digesting the words, his gaze far away.

"_Andiamo_," Leor urged, and Chanan responded, followed by a reluctant Seth. All three left the cell, dead-bolting it behind them, leaving the unconscious man bound on the floor.

xXx

"Three hours until sundown," Chanan noted. "We still have a long way to go until the ceremony tonight."

Seth gazed upwards, at the afternoon sun nearing the end of its journey across the sky. No longer a blazing chariot; now it was a harmlessly outlined sphere, having lost most of its radiance and brightness. At the end of the day, it would sink down slowly behind the landscape, defeated and worn. Seth watched it with a sense of melancholy.

"Plenty of time for the military convoy to get here, then," Leor affirmed.

Seth snapped back to attention. "Military?"

"_Si_," Chanan replied. "Didn't you know? They were summoned last night. We should be expecting approximately 200 paratroopers; there's even the rumor that we should expect to see several fortified _Ariete _tanks show up within the next few hours."

"All for a single girl?" Seth asked, unbelieving.

Leor shrugged in response. "They want to make certain, _signore_."

Chanan and Leor walked on ahead, back through _il Campo_; Seth stopped in his tracks, shading his eyes from the fading sun, as he looked up again into the sky.

_The only reason she was called 'Devil's Child', was because she was meant to awaken the Devil Himself. _

His thoughts were drowned out by the steady hum of an approaching military-issued chopper. On the side, despite the distance, Seth could make out the telltale six-pointed seal.

xXx

xXx

* * *

Do you fall down, O millions?...Are you aware of your Father, world?...Brothers—a mild sentence, from the mouth of the Final Judge! Chapter 19.

* * *

sugoi: (Japanese) amazing, wonderful  
Nihongo: (Japanese) Japanese (language)  
figlio prodigo: prodigal son  
la succube: the succubus, the demoness  
mia bambina: my child  
collega: partner  
che: what  
non lo so: I don't know  
signore: sir  
e non determinato a: it is not determined upon  
sul serio: for real  
lo so: I know  
budiulo: asshole  
buon pomeriggio: good afternoon  
come va: how are you?  
magnifico: magnificent  
partite: leave us  
per favore: please  
capisco: I understand  
miei amico: my friend  
il nome del gioco: the name of the game  
sou ka: (Japanese) I see  
fesseria: nonsense  
andiamo: let's go 

xXx

**A/N: We're almost done! Two more chapters to go...Again, I'm sorry this lapse took so long, but I can assure you all that chapter 19 is coming sooner. Thanks so much for your awesome responses!**

**In the meantime, be sure and check out my profile for some updated info, regarding the Renewal site and also a new LJ commentary blog!**


	20. Chapter 19: Advent

**A/N: **Sorry to have kept everyone on edge for so long. I hope it's been worth the wait.

Following this, there will be a medium-length epilogue. Thank you for reading; thank you _so much_ for reviewing. It's been a pleasure.

* * *

**The Burning Time**

**Chapter 19: Advent**

* * *

syn·er·gy (sĭnər-jē)  
_n._ The interaction of two or more agents or forces so that their combined effect is greater than the sum of their individual effects. 

"And I will give portents in the heavens and on the earth, blood and fire and columns of smoke. The sun shall be turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, and the stars of the sky fall to the earth before the great and terrible day of the LORD comes." (Joel 2:30-31)

"And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars." (Revelation 12:1).

Anything which is a living and not a dying body... will have to be an incarnate will to power, it will strive to grow, spread, seize, become predominant — not from any morality or immorality but because it is living and because life simply is will to power.  
— _Beyond Good and Evil_, Friedrich Nietzsche

_when will this loneliness be over?  
_—"map of the problematique", muse

* * *

In his cell at the top of the Duomo's tower, Amon trembled and shook uncontrollably as he fought against the narcotics in his blood. The drugs had made him weak, had tried to strip him of his resolve; they conspired insidiously to make him surrender, to accept what seethed underneath his skin and bring about the memories he still tried with every ounce of his strength to bury.

He could not let himself remember that which he had spent nearly his entire life trying to forget.

**)O(**

The tower clock of _il Campo_ chimed as it struck ten.

Seth watched from the doorway of an abandoned building, as the eighteenth military copter he'd counted in the last six hours made its descent into the edge of the open square, the propeller blades yielding a deafening roar as they served to stir up dust and debris within the center of the walled city. He shielded his eyes with a hand from the onslaught of wind, pressing his lips together tightly as he saw the torches set up along the outer rim of the plaza flicker and die out.

The presence of floodlights on the ground bathed the black chopper in a harsh glare. As it hovered, never actually landing, it quickly divested itself of its cargo of eight paratroopers, fully armed and in military riot gear, before taking off again and lifting into the dark sky. The troopers left behind set off on a jog, barking harsh, clipped commands at one another, locking and reloading semi-automatic weapons. The chopper faded from view and eventually the sound of the whirring blades receded from earshot. The floodlights were switched back off, and _il Campo_ was once again torch-lit, the flames at the edge of the square flickering in the breeze.

All that remained were the guttural sounds of human voices, and the metallic _clink_ of weaponry, as the soldiers headed off in the direction of the Duomo. The black of their armor faded into the darkness as they disappeared from view.

Seth watched after them for several minutes, his eyes far away in serious thought. He finally turned from the scene, his arms folded across his chest as he walked slowly back into the shadows.

He entered through the doorway of an adjacent abandoned drugstore a few doors down. In SOLOMON's haste to vacate the entire city of Siena, many such stores and shops had been completely deserted, sometimes even in the midst of operation. The lights were on, fluorescent and neon Italian signs glowing in the window, advertising liquor and wine.

There was a soft _ping_ as the door opened and he stepped over the threshold. Looking around, he spotted Gideon smoking a cigarette while leafing through a magazine. He looked further down the fluorescently-lit aisle to see Hedya and Noa in the liquor section, each woman busily examining bottles of wine and collecting selected bottles in grocery bags.

Seth's features tightened into a frown. "_Ciò che stai facendo?_" he asked sharply, and all three Coven members looked up at him in surprise.

Gideon blinked. "Shopping," he replied around the cigarette, nonplussed. Hedya and Noa met the accusatory look with their own glares.

"You can't take these things," Seth admonished, his incredulity turning into disapproval. "They don't belong to you, and there's no one to pay for them here."

Noa snorted in derision, turning back to the wine; Hedya regarded him with irony. "That's never stopped _you_ before, _signore_," she said, flatly. "To what do we owe this sudden attack of conscience?"

He responded with an acerbic look, refusing to dignify her question with an answer. Instead, he focused on the dark-haired female Witch. "Noa, a word with you, in private," he instructed briskly.

Noa ignored him, continuing to bank the wine as though she hadn't heard a word he'd said. He strode impatiently and purposefully down the aisle towards her, as Hedya watched, and spoke louder. "_Noa_," he warned sternly, now standing at her side.

She finally whirled to face him, eyeing him contemptuously. "_Che palle,_" she shot back. "Don't suddenly pretend that you have a backbone."

His expression morphing from surprise into livid irritation, Seth seized her arm firmly. "_Taci_," he growled, in a threatening tone.

"_You_ can't order me around," Noa snarled back, just as ferociously. "_Budiulo_." She shrugged herself out of his grasp, to his surprise, and stormed off with a grocery bag full of wine, heading out of the store. She called out for Gideon over her shoulder and the raven-haired Italian dropped his cigarette, grinding it out on the floor with his boot, and shot a glare at Seth as he followed her out.

"What in the hell was that about?" Seth muttered, still watching the door as Hedya came to stand next to him.

"Chanan told us about your reservations concerning the _auto de fe_ tonight," she informed him haughtily, speaking close to his ear. Without turning to face her, his posture tightened. "It's not like you to hold back in regard to anything. Is it weakness, after all this time, Seth? And for _her_; not even one of your comrades?"

Hedya's tone was biting, hovering between amused and dripping with venom as she circled behind him to speak lowly into his other ear. "I must say we're all _quite_ disappointed in you. If you do not have the stomach to take care of this little problem, perhaps we need to inform Archbishop Vasile that he should find someone who has a better appetite forit." She pushed past him to exit the store in the direction the others had gone, leaving Seth standing alone looking after her.

He stood still for several long moments, his head bowed among the liquor and cigarettes, bathed in the gaudy fluorescent drugstore lighting.

**)O(**

The clouded, moonless sky above the square of Siena glowed dark red.

Thirty minutes after the arrival of the last military helicopter from Rome, approaching one hour before midnight, the organizers of the _auto de fe_ began to set up the stake in the center of _il Campo_. Clergymen and laymen alike contributed to the organization for the ceremony, from the construction of the stake itself to the symbolically religious artifacts—the pulpit from where the pronouncement would come, the ceremonial daggers laid out on each side of it, the crucifix decorating the pulpit itself. The stake, a wooden beam ten feet high, was surrounded on all sides by kindling and firewood. There was a short, stepped wooden platform that allowed access to the stake from one side; firewood covered it above and below.

Vasile, in his opulent white clerical robes, was directing the construction of the stake's foundation. "The pyre must face east, in the direction of the Duomo," he instructed the paratroopers who were assisting, his outstretched arms emphasizing the direction; beside him, two priests dressed in full regalia nodded solemnly at his words. "It is important that God sees and witnesses this testimony we lay before Him; that what goes on tonight does not escape His vision. He would be most pleased to know that we have isolated and arrested His true enemy."

Seth approached the group directing the construction, his gait somewhat reluctant. As he neared, he overheard the brief snippet of a conversation between two military paratroopers as they passed him.

"I'm not even getting hazard or overtime pay for this. What's the fuckin' point?" one muttered, just within earshot. "Would just be easier to shoot her in the head, than to deal with all of this crap."

Seth straightened his spine as the other soldier reined his companion in, reminding him that it was a teenaged girl they were discussing. Seth thought briefly of Sela, and felt an acute pang of something that tasted vaguely of regret.

He was closer to the group when he spotted a robed priest, nervously wringing his hands, speaking confidentially into the Archbishop's ear. Vasile nodded, as if to console, and spoke just loud enough so that he could hear. "_Si_. She will burn, even if she has the ability to control fire; I have it on assurance that she will not be aware of herself enough to use it." He patted the priest on the shoulder. "Do not fear, _mio amico_. Justice is to be done, this night." He seemed almost giddy with excitement, and it made Seth's stomach turn.

_Justice_. Seth felt at war with himself.

Vasile finally turned and saw his approach. "Seth," the older man entreated, waving, "_mio figlio_, come here." The blond Witch came obediently to stand before him, his expression remote. "We are almost done with the construction of the stake," Vasile explained, "and with little time left over. The hour approaches." He eyed his companion shrewdly. "Is she prepared for the ceremony?"

The blond man leaned in to speak into the Archbishop's ear. "That is exactly what I wish to talk to you about, _signore_," he said quietly. Vasile cocked his head patiently, waiting; Seth drew him away gently by the arm to a more remote spot, to discourage the priests and monks hovering close nearby as though they hoped to eavesdrop. Once there, the Archbishop faced him again, blithely oblivious.

"I had hoped you would be an active participant in this ritual, Seth," he said, still earnest and hopeful. "You were instrumental in her capture—it only seems right that you should be an integral part of this momentous event, one that has its roots in our very foundation. First the Testament will be read aloud, as the Succubus is bound at the stake; then we will perform the Lesser Banishing Ritual, followed by the _pulsa d'nura_." He looked at the younger man with paternal expectation, pressing his hand to his heart. "It was my hope that your involvement in this would be a turning point; your first step in taking your place among the upper echelons of the organization." Seth eyed him warily.

Vasile's face began to register concern. "Tell me, what is on your mind, my son?"

"It must have been difficult, issuing the order to murder a fellow man of the cloth, such as _Padre_ Juliano," Seth offered experimentally. "It's a shame that Amon showed up when he did; if he hadn't, we may not have had to murder the priest—we could have held _his_ life over Robin's head, instead of Amon's." Vasile frowned, and Seth's suspicions were confirmed.

"Juliano's punishment was completely warranted." The Archbishop seethed with a quiet firmness. "He betrayed us. He had strayed from the faith."

"Did Sela deserve what she received, as well?" Seth asked sharply, ice-blue eyes narrowed. He waited a beat, and then continued in a lower tone, "There was more of Hiroshi Toudou's video that was recovered from the Factory, wasn't there, _signore?_ Parts that were not shown to us."

The older man wisely kept his mouth shut, but looked upon him with scorn. The look told Seth all he needed to know. It was the look he'd received for years upon questioning some of the organization's activities. _You are not privy to such information._

Now Vasile's expression settled into something resembling calm, stony disappointment. "What exactly is this about, my son?"

Seth resigned himself to having his last two questions unanswered, although he feared he already knew the response. He schooled his features once more.

"It's regarding _her_," he answered Vasile firmly, "Robin." Again the old, wizened eyes blazed; he continued in the face of it, nevertheless. "I see no reason to have to kill her."

The Archbishop recoiled at the suggestion as if he'd been struck. He looked as though he were struggling with his attempt to formulate an answer.

"We have her in our possession, she's not a danger to us at the moment," Seth went on in a desperate, persistent whisper. "Is it really necessary to behave so barbarously? If we could somehow harness her power…get her to do our bidding, by holding Amon's life over her. We have him; perhaps as long as he is alive, she will—"

"_Lilith_ is servant to _no one_." Vasile nearly spat the words, his face now contorted with anger. "She will not obey you, I, or anyone else—not even the Devil himself can completely govern her actions. There is no restraint, or cage, or stake that can hold her alive. She did not even obey Adam, her designated husband, in Scripture—what makes you think that _anyone_ can control her?!"

His countenance calm and composed, Seth answered, "If it's possible that she is_ not _Lilith, she can be controlled, her power tempered." They stared at one another for a long, terse moment, and finally Vasile turned away.

"_Capisco_," the Archbishop said, nodding succinctly, but with a tone of contempt. "You believe she is the Goddess depicted in that mythology you're so fond of." He met the younger Witch's eyes again disapprovingly, his lowered voice taking on a fierce edge. "Well I'll have you know that your precious _Diana_ is none other than the Devil's Bride, the Abomination, the very Whore of Babylon herself. She and Lilith are one and the same!"

Seth flinched. It was as he'd suspected, that the Goddess lore was the source of SOLOMON's demoness mythology; but he was not willing to concede his stance. "If she is anything like Diana, she will not be as evil or destructive as you believe her to be—"

"_You_ _are lost in foolish Witch lore, my son!_" the Archbishop countered angrily, shouting as he stabbed the air before Seth with a finger. He stepped up close enough to growl menacingly into the young man's face. "And you are in no place to be dictating in what manner SOLOMON conducts an _auto de fe_! You are already being carefully scrutinized for your actions, thanks to your last maneuver. You should think before you speak from now on, Seth!"

Seth's lips pressed together firmly as he bore the brunt of Vasile's anger, and bit his lip against the words he wanted to unleash. He'd obviously driven the Archbishop to his breaking point. "_Signore_," he said tightly, after a lengthened pause, his eyes never leaving the older man's. "_Mi perdoni_. I did not intend to offend you."

Vasile watched him with blatant suspicion. Around them the bustle of the activity in _il Campo_ continued, paratroopers and priests alike, oblivious to their exchange. Seth resisted the insatiable urge to crack his knuckles.

Finally the Archbishop bowed his head and turned away for a brief moment. "I have a task for you," he spoke, turning back to face his companion resolutely. "And it would be in your best interests to do _exactly_ as you are instructed, this time." The veiled threat in the older man's tone was unmistakable. Seth waited.

"It is important to ensure that she does not awaken from the effects of the tranquilizer during the burning." Vasile's stare was penetrating. "Therefore you are to prepare her for the ceremony, immediately."

Seth's eyebrows lifted. "Prepare her…?" he asked. The Archbishop held his gaze.

"You must strangle her."

A pause. "…_What?_"

"She must not awaken, so you are to strangle her in her cell before the ceremony is to commence."

The blond Witch shook his head in disbelief, certain that he hadn't heard correctly. "_N-non capisco_. You want _me_ to kill her before the actual ceremony?" His voice was unsteady and uncertain. "But the _auto de fe_—"

"The _auto de fe_ has its own merit outside of taking the life of the Succubus," Vasile insisted calmly. "The ritual and the burning are to protect SOLOMON, to ensure that the soul's cycle will end; that Lilith will not be reborn into another form. For not only was she created with Lilith's genes, she also has Lilith's willful spirit. The _pulsa d'nura_ at the stake will make certain that her soul never returns to this plane of existence." His fists clenched at his sides in emphasis.

Seth was wordless, stupefied. He'd thought it was possible that they might do this to her before the stake, to prevent her awakening—he hadn't anticipated being given the duty himself. He felt perspiration break on his brow despite the cool night air surrounding them.

"You must take care, while doing it, not to spill one drop of her unholy blood in the process." Vasile's voice remained firm, and Seth looked away as he tried his best to disguise his combined horror and fear.

The Archbishop saw it. "Do this for us, _mio figlio_," Vasile coaxed, his eyes still stern and unforgiving, "and any record of your past transgression will be immediately eradicated. You will be on your way towards becoming one of the most highly respected members of the organization." He laid a hand on the young man's shoulder in what was meant to be an encouraging gesture, ignoring the sudden flinch in response.

"You _will_ do this. God wills it to be so."

Seth raised his eyes at the words, at length pulling himself to his full height and giving a reluctant and curt nod. He turned on his heel to go, feeling Vasile's eyes on his back.

He was ten feet away from the Archbishop when he finally spoke to himself under his breath.

"If God wills anything, _signore_," he answered bitterly, his throat tight, "it is that misery is to become a permanent fixture in my life."

**)O(**

The white cathedral was a stark and intimidating figure against the dark backdrop of the shorter and more humble Siennese buildings. Even the nighttime shadows did little to veil the Duomo's gothic grandeur, its ornate craftsmanship. It stood out proudly in the muted reddish glow of the sky's evening light; a holy beacon amidst the disgraceful multitudes.

Beneath the Church, below the mosaic-tiled flooring several stories down, was a dimly lit cellblock made of gray stone. Cold, dark, unforgiving—it was nothing like the benevolent structure that towered over it. There was no ornate craftsmanship, no sacred formation; it was comprised entirely of hidden, dirty prison chambers. At the end of the block row was the only occupied cell, barely illuminated by the scant light from a low hallway lantern.

The cell's single inhabitant lay on the stone floor, blindfolded and bound. The once-brilliant chestnut-blonde hair was caked with dirt in some places; her black pilgrim's dress now a dingy dark gray from dust, powdered with specks of white from the chalk drawn out on the ground around her.

The black strip of cloth over her eyes that served to blindfold her had been soaked wet with her tears. In her sleep she had dreamt, and in her dreams she had cried. By the time she fully regained awareness—whether because of the dwindling effects of the drug, or her own will—she had wept for many things.

She had wept for her grandfather. _Taken so soon…I didn't have time to tell you what I wished I had._

She had wept out of fear. _I don't want to die._

She had wept for the loneliness, the unwanted solitude that had dominated her life until she had come to Japan.

She had wept for _him_, for his captivity. He was alive, she'd granted him that—but he wasn't free. She'd cried for the multitude of memories she was witness to; lifetimes upon lifetimes of recognition, of glimpsing one another over years and eons…the joy of reunion, and the pain of having the other suddenly, brutally ripped out of her grasp.

But when she was done, when she had no tears left to shed and could feel her mind and senses clearing and sharpening out of the fog of the narcotic given to her, Robin decided she was going to do more, _much_ more, than just weep.

The knowing, feminine voice was still hovering in her thoughts, offering its unsolicited wisdom…_you are both guided by the symbols handed down to us by the ages…the runes, the letters of power that for thousands of years have granted insight and foreknowledge. You have used them to warn yourself, to caution, to respond to questions for which you could not find answers. You can make use of them now to determine your fates—yours and Amon's. Your symbol is Hagalaz. This is his._

In her mind Robin could see the shimmering form of two bisecting lines, forming the letter _x_. _Nauthiz_. The rune of need; of delays, of restriction.

_The situation has stagnated_, the voice beckoned; _patience is needed. Do not lose hope, but stay the course…let your God come to you, in all of his glory and light. Trust that he has not given up on you._

_No._ Robin was insistent in her response. _God will not assist us._ _He has forsaken me; He won't come to me. I have been abandoned._ _Because of this, I alone must free myself; I must free Amon. I have made a mistake, believing that his life with SOLOMON was preferable to his life with me. I have condemned him…now I must undo what I have done._

_For so long, I have done everything as others instructed me, and believed their promises. For so long, I have been alone. I had always felt halved, incomplete, as though a part of me was missing. Now I realize that throughout time, I have known him; a thousand times, for hundreds of years, we returned, he and I, looking for one another. We both sacrificed for each other over and over, each instance believing the authority that told us that it was the only solution. And as a result, we have been repeating this self-denying cycle for eternity. _

The voice was strangely quiet. Robin felt her convictions strengthening.

_How could I have even thought it possible to leave him behind, and take separate paths?_ she asked herself now, introspectively. _All I have ever wanted was to be with him. I do not know what Toudou's mentor had planned; I do not know if his design as a crafted Witch has malicious intent; I do not know whether he is in fact the manifestation of Satan. _

_What I do know, _she realized with conviction,_ is that I am in love with him. _

_Even if he chooses to remain a Seed, there has to be another solution for us, beyond one or both of us forfeiting our lives. Whatever that solution is, it will not come from our separation. _

She was surfacing, slowly coming to awareness as the thoughts skipped across her perception, her own inner voice sounding stronger in her head than she'd heard it before. _I am through with seeing him slip through my fingers. I am tired of doing what I have been told by others is right. _

_I have waited so long…I am tired of waiting. I want to go to him, **now**. _

Her body shuddered. She opened her eyes in the darkness. The cloth blindfold covering her face, suddenly dry, disintegrated in a short burst of heat and flame; and she blinked, gasping slightly as she tried to adjust her eyes.

She turned her head as much as she could manage, attempting to assess her surroundings. Her vision was blurry, her eyesight weakened by hours of sleep and the scant light of the dark prison. She saw only haze and shadows as she turned her head on the stone floor.

But it hadn't been a dream. She was alive.

Robin tried to move the rest of her body experimentally. She was on her side in her cell, her wrists bound securely behind her in metal cuffs. Around her on the cement she could make out the rough outline of an Ogham's Wheel in white chalk, drawn with Eihwaz in merkstave. _Confusion; weakness. _

She stilled abruptly as she heard voices. Not in her head this time; she heard them in the hallway—three males, speaking casual Italian as they approached her cell. Robin struggled to clear her eyesight, panting for breath, the beginnings of panic seeping into her chest.

_Do not underestimate your nose and ears, _Juliano had told her once, during routine field training.The memory of his spoken voice calmed her._ A good hunter waits for scent, and listens for sound, when he cannot depend upon his sight_.

Their casual conversation betrayed them; the acoustic resonance of the men's voices bounced off stone and cement as they approached. They were near, perhaps only fifteen feet or so from the door, perhaps only twenty-five feet from her in total.

Robin listened and estimated. She did not have an accurate measurement this time; but hopefully she would not need it.

She set the hallway aflame.

The voices were alive in a sudden cacophony of alarm, the men screaming out in fear at the sudden explosion of flames in the dark corridor, one of them in pain. She heard sharp commands barked in Italian. Robin fought against the manacles at her wrists; she briefly contemplated setting fire to the metal cuffs, but realized it would burn her, causing her significant pain and perhaps even rendering her hands useless. Still too weak to sit herself upright, she looked again to the door of her cell and listened for movement. She tensed as she heard the sudden and abrupt fire of gunshots right outside her door.

The heavy metal door to her cell was hastily unlocked, and swung open. Robin, prepared to incinerate the person upon their entry, stopped and gasped as her vision cleared enough to reveal a shock of raven-black hair, a dark trenchcoat, concerned steel-gray eyes.

She mouthed his name, her voice rusty in her throat. _Amon._

He came toward her quickly, stopping as he reached her side. "Robin," he said gruffly, and she could see the concern shimmering in his dark eyes. She felt her own filling with tears at the sight of him and again tried to whisper his name, her voice raspy with disuse.

He was holding something in his hand, slightly masked by his fingers. "I've got the key—I'm going to get you out of here. Just hold on." He knelt down next to her and reached with his other hand to turn her slightly on her side as she lay on the ground, to reach her manacled wrists. _He's here, he escaped somehow…and now we will be free_, she thought, her heart soaring with hope.

"I'm so glad," she whispered hoarsely, her breath choking with emotion, "I had almost given up hoping…" Turned away from him momentarily, facing the stone wall, she couldn't see his face. "I have so much to tell you…"

"I know," he responded firmly. "Just stay still."

She then realized she had noticed something as he had entered her cell, something that her eyes had always been drawn to when looking at him. "Amon," she said, after a beat, "where is your gun?"

"My gun?" he asked, still focused on his task.

"I heard gunshots," she said slowly, "and you're not wearing your holster." _He never goes without it._ There was a pregnant pause, as Amon did not answer.

She craned her neck to look him in the eye, coming to a horrifying understanding just as she felt him push up her sleeve and insert a needle. Her eyes went wide before her face crumpled in an expression of hurt and anger.

Amon's sleeve erupted in flames. His hands were on fire. He screamed, and it was not Amon's scream; it was a higher-pitched whining sound, the tone of a male at least five years younger. The man who wore Amon's hair and eyes and face howled in pain, tucking his arms into his jacket in an attempt to douse the flames.

She turned herself over clumsily, still on the ground, prepared to incinerate her target; instead she heard the hiss of air, felt an unseen razor-sharp blade ghost past her upper arm, barely tearing the delicate skin. She gasped and curled inwards to protect her body from the attack.

Figures were crowding into her cell, three, maybe four…she found her vision was once again becoming intermittently hazy, her movements and reflexes dulled; whatever she had been injected with had already begun to go to work. One of the blurry figures ran toward her, stopping at a safe enough distance. "_Smettila, Gideon!_" he shouted back to an unseen figure in the doorway. "Not one drop of her blood spilled! I gave the Archbishop my word!"

Robin recognized the voice. _Seth._ She strained her eyes to focus on him; she struggled to sit upright, so that she could incinerate the obscure apparitions before her, but she felt herself already weakening. The narcotic they'd injected couldn't have been working that fast—was it the Ring of Ogham in conjunction with _Eihwaz,_ working to subdue her flame? In her confusion her witchfire ignited at the far side of the room, the sudden sparks of fire splaying harmlessly against the stone wall.

Looking back towards the corner she saw Amon's clone change before her blurring eyes, even as he still tucked his burnt arms into his jacket and cursed her. The gray eyes were fading, the dark hair on his head falling away, replaced by blue and a shock of auburn; his features melting and morphing into those of a young man of Irish descent. _Ethan—_an Earth-craft user.

"_Fookin' shite_," he cried, "th' stupid bint burnt me hands!" One of the other figures in the room went to tend to him, as well as to possibly restrain him from returning to where she lay on the ground to exact his revenge. He remained in the corner, his muttered groaning and curses unrelenting.

She was able to distinguish the form of Seth standing over her now, as the blackness on the edge of her perception threatened to totally consume her. He looked down at her dispassionately as she panted and gasped for breath to stay awake, now unable to move as she lay inside the chalk-drawn Ogham ring. _Don't sleep, _she pleaded with herself_, don't sleep…you have to get up…you have to find a way to get to Amon and free him…_

"Leave us, everyone," she heard him say lowly, solemnly.

"_Signore…_" Chanan began plaintively, but Seth roared in response.

"_Leave us!_"

Robin barely heard the sound of the Coven members gradually filing out, leaving the two of them—she and Seth—alone in the dim light of the prison cell. Her eyes could no longer stay open, rolling back into her head; her breathing had become tedious and painful in her chest as the drug took its effect. She heard Seth speak, but his voice was disembodied, floating all around her. She felt herself drifting, against her will; she felt weightless.

_No…_

"I didn't want to do this," she heard him softly admit. "Not to you. But they have ways…don't they, _mia cara_."

_Open_, she willed her closed eyes. _Please, open…please stay awake. _She twitched, gasping and trembling against the narcotic. Seth was still talking, presumably as he was walking around her, circling the white chalk of the Ogham's wheel.

"They break your will, with guilt…and fear. No one can stand against them alone. If you are not a Hunter, then you are the hunted." He paused briefly, as if he were considering his words with care.

"But I have not lied to you, Robin. I kept things from you, I concealed my ties to the organization as well as I could; but I did not lie. I know God curses me. I have lived with that knowledge, for years."

His speaking voice was low, calm and soft, as he would speak to a treasured friend, a confidante. Robin panted for breath, idly wondering if he considered her dark and dingy prison cell to be something of a confessional.

"Even the rituals we showed you weren't lies," he went on, in an assured tone. "Although my comrades would say differently, Diana, the protectress of Witches, _does_ exist. Long before I joined SOLOMON and hunted my own shadows, I believed in her, in the Goddess. I believed, as did others, that she would live again, as was the myth of ages past. I believed that she would lead us—Witches, her children—out of the wretched darkness of our curses and into the light of the world. And I believed she would show herself to those she deems worthy. I still believe so, even now.

"When I was young my mother used to tell me story after story about the _Fata Regina_, Queen of the Fae, _la Dea Matrona_; a beautiful, magical woman who lived hundreds of years ago. She had so many legends of Diana, my mother did, passed on to her from her own family…and I knew all of them by heart. 'How Diana made the Stars and the Rain', 'Tana and Endymion', 'How the Fairies were Born', 'The House of the Wind'."

Robin's mind stirred; she imperceptibly flinched as she lay on the ground before him. The title of the story that Jana had read flashed in her thoughts: _La Pellegrina della Casa al Vento._

Seth expelled a soft sigh. "I believed all of them, of course. I was a boy; what choice did I have?" He laughed lightly. "At night she would sing to me all the old folk songs, songs of the witches and fairies and the forest. I still remember all of the melodies, the lyrics of each of them. But I suppose that what I remember the most was the incident in my childhood, when I was just seven years old.

"I was tending my family's garden, outside wandering with the dogs and the chickens…we had an enormous backyard, with several acres of land. I was far beyond the house, and as I rounded a corner, standing amidst the sunflowers and the apple trees, was a young woman, maybe nineteen or twenty years old. She was so beautiful, with long reddish-blonde hair and intense green eyes, like shimmering jewels. She turned to look at me as I was standing there watching her, and she had the strangest expression on her face…almost a serene sort of melancholy, as though she were thinking of something that made her very sad.

"I couldn't tear my eyes away. I thought she was an angel…or perhaps of the Fae, of whom my mother had told me stories. And as I looked on her, gazing at her in wonder, she moved her lips as though she desired to speak to me—but no words came forth. I moved closer, thinking she was speaking and I could not hear it.

"Just then my father appeared at the edge of the garden, calling out sternly to me, demanding that I come in at once. She looked past me to where he stood, and I saw her face change, becoming angry. And then suddenly from the edge of the garden near where my father was standing, there was a brilliant eruption of flame. It nearly burnt him, but he stepped back in time and was able to avoid it. I remember seeing his horrified expression, the fear in his eyes, through the burning inferno.

"I turned back to the young woman once more…but she had vanished, without a trace. It was almost as though she hadn't been there in the first place…and even though my father had been witness to it also, he tried to assure me that what we had seen was simply a will o' the wisp, _fuoco fatuo_. He forbade me to tell my mother, who would have certainly insisted it was a visit from Diana herself.

"A year later," he continued, his voice quiet and subdued, "my father would betray my mother to SOLOMON, denouncing her as a dangerous Witch…while I stood by and did nothing."

He paused for long moments, after which Robin heard him sigh again quietly. "When I think back on that episode in the garden, now, I think that perhaps she was trying to warn me…either that, or protect me. Which is why when I first saw you that day with Amon in Siena, Robin, I was completely taken aback by your appearance—something photographs couldn't do justice to. You see, I have never forgotten her face, the strange maiden in the garden, _la madonna del fuoco_."

She barely felt his hand caressing her cheek. "You look exactly like her."

Although she was slipping beneath the waves of consciousness from the effect of the drug injected into her vein, Robin was able to ascertain that he was now kneeling over her form as she lay on the ground, touching her face. Despite his proximity his voice sounded warbled to her ears, muted, as though he were far away. She strained to listen.

"The Archbishop, Vasile, spoke of Lilith and Diana as though they are one and the same," he went on, seemingly oblivious to whether or not she was actually aware enough to listen to him. "I had suspected as such, and only recently have I come to accept this belief as my own as well. I don't believe as he does, that Lilith is 'whore of the Devil' and a Succubus and a killer of human children…but I do believe that SOLOMON fears her. Because of this they seek to slander her, to tarnish her. They cannot under any circumstances allow her to live." His voice dropped to a whisper in the near-empty cell. "That was why I could not turn you over to them so soon. I had to know.

"I believed that it was you, that_ you were Diana_," he asserted quietly, "andthatwas why they insisted upon destroying you."

And in her head, in the fragmented moments of stillness that followed, Robin replayed the evidence over and over again through her mind: her blood ties through Jana to Aradia, the gentle and loving worship of the Sovanan townspeople, Toudou's ultimate purpose for her as the Eve—to restore the legacy of the ancient gods. The vivid memories she'd experienced, searing her heart with the strength of pure conviction, were not coincidence. The knowledge descended upon her and felt as solid and real as nothing else she had felt before in her life, and she accepted it as truth.

_**I** **am** the Goddess, their protectress. The truth has two sides… I am both Diana to the Witches, and Lilith to SOLOMON. Protectress of ancient gods; nemesis to humans and those who fear the more powerful. _

He went on, his voice lowering with disillusion. "But now…I think that they were wrong, that you cannot be; for Diana is omnipotent, and would not be subdued so easily. No one can overpower her. If Toudou had designed you to be the true Goddess, then your Craft should not have weakened as it has." Seth paused. "I wish it were not so, _tesoro_."

_He's wrong, _she insisted in her head, staunch in her new belief and understanding; _if only I could prove it to him…_

_But how can I? If I am also Lilith, how can I reconcile them, how can I save both Witches and humans? Seth is right—how can I do anything, when I am as powerless as this?_

He sighed. "No one wishes it more than I. We are trained to believe that our powers are evil, that we are genetic abominations under God; that we can never hope to achieve any sort of greatness, with these abilities." Here he paused again. "But…even I, haven't been able to believe that is the only truth. Despite the fact that it took away my humanity, some part of me…sometimes…_enjoys_ having this power, summoning lightning and storms, feeling the rush of excitement when I call it forth. I feel strong, when I do. I feel _alive_. This is how I know that Ican never be forgiven for my sin of being a Witch, because I am not as wholly repentant as most other Craft-users are. As much trouble as it has caused me since the day I awakened into power, as much as I know that this ability is evil…I would not choose to give it up. I do not wish to be cursed, but neither do I wish to be human.

"So I do what I must to validate my own existence in SOLOMON's eyes; and that is to hunt those others like myself, with the Craft—Hunters that defy the organization or seek to escape it. What these Hunters fail to realize is that there _is _no escape. Sela knew this; your partner, Amon, knows this. Nevertheless…they still choose to try."

A note of disdain in his voice…or regret?

"Maybe we do not have a purpose, for being what we are; maybe we _are_ simply genetic anomalies, biological mistakes, as we've been taught all of our lives. But…I _have_ seen something in you, Robin, in the way you interact with both Witches and humans," Seth's voice softened once more, "that makes me wonder sometimes…if I am on the correct side of this war."

He was silent for a long moment, during which she wondered if he'd left her there on the floor, if he was even still in the room. Her consciousness was fading quickly.

The calm, composed male voice started again beside her, and she drowsily realized he had been at her side the entire time. "That is why it is extremely difficult for me to do this…but I must, because I have no choice. I do not have the luxury of falling for another _fuoco fatuo_; hope is a fragile thing that I cannot afford. I cannot save you." And she felt his hands carefully positioning themselves to encircle her throat.

"You must believe me," he said sadly, "I_ am _sorry…" She was suddenly possessed with an overwhelming urge to scream, to cry out, but could do neither—

"…but it was not meant to be, _tesoro_." He whispered. "_Mi perdoni_."

He squeezed.

**)O(**

Seth noticed she was not struggling, and deduced she had fallen completely unconscious. She would not even fight him, during this. The realization lent him a momentary additional gust of will; it would be nearly effortless. _The better to be done with it quickly._

His hands tightened around her thin white throat, marking seconds in his head. _One…two…three…._

He abruptly released her, his hands shaking slightly. He'd sworn he had just felt something brush his arm, heard a whisper…

_Sela. _His neck and arms broke out in gooseflesh, his blood suddenly running cold in his veins.

It was impossible. He was hallucinating. Seth shook his head briefly to clear it and placed his hands again, this time timidly, on the chestnut-haired girl's throat. He pressed with his thumbs. _One…two…three…fourfive—_

_The operatives you targeted for death, for disobeying the Cabal…_

…_because she was in love with me? And for no other reason?..._

He gasped, tearing his hands away again as he panted for breath. The excerpt from Amon's interrogation had inexplicably materialized in his mind. It was one of the many things the girl's warden had said that had made him truly uncomfortable when thinking about it at length.

_Was it the truth?_...

_It couldn't have been._ Sela was going to disobey him and eventually betray the entire Coven. The organization had gotten wind of it, knew of it; it had nothing to do with her feelings for him. They would not destroy a valuable Hunter for such a petty reason; neither would they Hunt simply because two operatives were lovers.

Amon was delusional. Seth calmed himself, taking a deep breath. It did nothing to relieve the tightness in his chest. Robin's own breast rose and fell on the floor beside him, still breathing.

What had Sela said, once? It had been after a particularly difficult Hunt; two very high-profile rogue agents, a man and a woman who had escaped from SOLOMON years earlier, having somehow evaded the organization's radar. They had started a family. There had been young children, whom of course had been taken into custody—too young to have developed a Craft, but as Seeds they had potential as Hunters.

Sela had cried bitterly upon witnessing the daughter's traumatized reaction as she crawled on hands and knees to her slain parents to touch them one last time, their bodies broken and bleeding on the ground. _We are far more wretched for doing this than for simply being Witches,_ she had declared tearfully. _Look at their eyes. We have killed their hope._

Which was what he was doing now—killing, murdering hope, strangling the breath out of it with his bare hands.

_I have no choice. I must do as they will me to. _

Seth placed his hands over Robin's neck once more, his thumbs pressing against her windpipe. He shut out the thoughts threatening to invade his mind. _Witches…Sela…Hunting…godsToudou…DianawitchesSelaRobinmother—_

"One…two…" he counted aloud, pressing his lips together between counts with the effort, "…three…four….five…

"Six…

"Seven…

"Eight…

"Nine…"

**)O(**

Ten minutes later he emerged from the cell, shutting the metal door securely behind him. Leor and Gideon looked up at him from where they leaned against the hallway corridor. Seth attempted to school his pained, darkened features into a semblance of detachment; though he was certain the members of his Coven knew him well enough to see through any façade he tried to put up. He rubbed his hands together as though they were sore from overuse.

"_Andiamo,_" he said to them brusquely, not even sparing the men a glance as he moved past them on his way out. "It is done." Wordlessly they fell into step behind him.

**)O(**

The group, led by a subdued Seth, made their way upstairs to the Duomo's ground level. From there, they headed towards the small stone tower. Upon ascending the Duomo's tower steps and making their way up to Amon's cell, all three men discovered Chanan holding the door open and waving them forward excitedly from inside, apprehension in his features.

"He remains awake, despite multiple injections over the last few hours," the Spaniard informed them with unease, as the three brushed past him to enter the cell. "I don't know what to do. He seems to be fighting off the drug. He's not talking, but he's definitely not asleep."

Without a word Seth approached Amon, still shackled and bound and seated upright on the floor, and knelt so he was eye-level with him. The dark-haired Hunter barely seemed to respond to his presence with a slight turn of his head, his movements shaky and erratic; his eyes were open, half-lidded, almost hidden by his mussed and disheveled hair. His breathing came in ragged pants. Seth cautiously reached to brush a lock of dark hair away from the steel-gray irises staring blankly ahead of him; Amon's eyes did not shift. His pupils were dilated.

"He's unseeing," Seth reported neutrally, sitting back on his heels and looking up to the other members of the Coven in the room. "I don't think he's truly awake. He seems to be in some sort of half-conscious state."

Chanan wrung his hands, looking none too convinced that Amon wasn't a threat. "Even so, he could wake up at any time. We won't be leaving for Rome until long after the ceremony."

Seth nodded and motioned to Gideon, who came forward with an uncapped syringe. "We will take care of it," he spoke calmly and monotonously, as if to a complaining child. His apathetic blue eyes regarded the prisoner as he took the needle and prepared Amon's arm for injection.

"The girl, she is prepared for the _auto de fe?_" He heard Chanan asking Leor, and assumed the Italian had nodded in affirmative response, most likely looking in his direction as he did so. Chanan went on to ask further questions regarding preparations.

Seth administered the drug into the prisoner's vein, speaking to him quietly under his breath. "Sleep now, Amon," he said with empathy. "After all of this is over, it will be easier to forget what you've been through." Despite Amon's problematic disposition during his brief stint with the Coven, Seth imagined they had recently developed a strange kind of kinship; brothers born from an understanding of mutually shared anguish. _Lucky bastard._ _Take comfort in the fact that at least you won't have to watch her suffer. _

He sat back on his heels again afterwards, to regard him. Amon's posture was relaxing slightly, his features less strained, his breathing coming slower as his eyes began to close. Seth rose from his crouched position and sighed quietly.

Leor spoke as he rejoined the group. "_Signore_, it might be worth posting armed troopers to guard him in the cell during the ceremony, in case he does wake up. We have so many of them here, after all—"

Seth shook his head. "It's not necessary. He is hallucinatory, but not dangerous; he is too far gone to know what's going on right now." Chanan and Leor looked on disapprovingly, folding their arms. "Station a few of them at the ground floor of the tower entrance. That should be sufficient." Leor nodded, and Chanan's posture relaxed somewhat.

"He'd be smart not to awaken during the ritual," Gideon intoned with an ironic smirk, shaking his head, as they began to leave. "He won't like what will be done to the body." He exited the cell, followed by the two other men.

Seth lingered behind after the three others had left, turning to deliver one last glance at the unconscious prisoner. He held the doorframe with one hand, nearly supporting himself, as he looked back at Amon with something resembling weariness.

"It is probably better that you never awakened to your power, after all," he said quietly to the shivering, crumpled form on the floor. "Mercy is hard to come by, in this organization." He closed the cell door slowly behind him.

**)O(**

He'd heard every word said, but he was unable to move or speak.

To hear their casual conversation around him as he was being drugged further was almost torturous for Amon, particularly when he'd heard a reference made to _her_, being prepared for the ritual. Seth had mentioned something before during his interrogation about preparation for the ceremony. What had he said? _Was it too late?_

It was out of his control. Everything was out of his control—he'd never _had_ any control over events governing himself and Robin to begin with. It had all been one big, elaborate lie that he'd tricked himself into believing. The truth had just seemed too damned inconvenient at the time.

He felt himself sinking into relaxation against his will. In a strange way, it was a welcome reprieve from his many hours of mental anguish. His body had begun to feel as though it were eating itself with anger and remorse; he'd struggled, mostly fueled by anxiety and fear, against the narcotics given to him and had succeeded to a large part in remaining semi-awake, not completely giving in to sleep. But therage, the fear, such soul-crushing emotions—all _should_ have awakened his dormant Craft, if the multitude of other Witches he'd seen while employed with the STN-J had been any indication. Emotional trauma involving adrenaline and the fight-or-flight response had seemed to be the common trigger for eruptions of power in the violent cases they'd seen. Why was it not working for him?

_Why? _

Another part of him asked—solemnly, with calm acceptance, knowing full well what it was asking—_what do I have to do?_

Desperation had set in. If it meant he could save her, he wanted to let it completely loose; if it meant she would still live, he would do anything—he would unleash the terror of it on the world, let it spin wildly out of control as he knew was certain to happen. He had decided. For Robin, he would choose damnation. _After all, you're halfway there, already._ He would sooner see his own soul cast into whatever Hell awaited him than let her burn for her sin of simply being alive.

_You must fully evoke your memory of the incident with your mother, in its entirety, to understand._

Part of him still did not want to remember. The pain of that memory had driven him into crazed anger, had molded him into a creature of unyielding vengeance. For years he had turned that righteous wrath towards Witches, judging them as the scourge of the earth, as Zaizen had—all the while fearing his own inevitable turning.

After what he had seen and heard with Robin in Sovana, it was almost impossible to be now as he once was regarding them. He'd been privy to what Witches truly were, what they had the potential to be. But the fury that had shaped him for years still attempted to manifest elsewhere, still simmered beneath his consciousness, as was apparent with his willingness to join the Coven and hunt SOLOMON agents. It hadn't disappeared—it had only sought refuge somewhere else inside of him. His anger, misplaced or not, would be his undoing. As long as it clung to him, he would have no control of his unleashed powers.

_I don't know how to be merciful. _Whatever part of him that knew how to forgive, had been buried within him for nearly all of his life. He did not know how to resuscitate it. It was hopeless.

Even as he felt himself begin to calm and sink lower into repose, the despair felt as though it would swallow him whole.

**)O(**

Midnight; the dark sky above _il Campo_ had given way to a deep reddish glow.

Strategically placed torches flickered at a low level, yielding negligible light. Rows upon rows of black-clad SOLOMON paratroopers stood en masse surrounding the edges of the square, protective body armor and weapons intact. They stood silently, not a sound among them, guns at the ready. Three Ariete tanks flanked four of the main entrances, gun turrets directed towards the constructed stake in the center, their pilots standing by. The air was still, quiet. All attention was on the southernmost end of _il Campo_, as movement there heralded the commencement of the ceremony.

Led by Vasile, bedecked in his long white and gold ritual cleric robes, the procession made its way slowly into the open arena. With a dignified calm, the Archbishop walked purposefully through the square's entrance in slow, measured steps, the edges of his white robe trailing along on the ground. In his arms he held three holy books, a scepter, and the horn of a ram. Behind him walked forty priests and monks at a similar pace; their heads were bowed penitently, the fabric of their heavy black robes whispering in the night.

Beyond them were the Craft-users, the Cabal's Army, numbering at least fifty. They were dressed in the mid-length dark-blue ritual robes of the Coven, their faces hidden by their hoods and hands clasped solemnly before them as they walked. Seth, at the forefront of the group, tried surreptitiously to turn his head underneath his dark blue hood to look over his shoulder, so that he could view the procession behind him.

She was last to emerge into the square, the object of the ritual herself, tied to an upright wooden beam supported on a large wheeled plank and towed by five hooded monks. Her head hung limply over her chest, swaying with the motion of the cart; still in her dirt-smudged pilgrim's dress, her loose chestnut-blonde locks partially shrouding her face. He saw the paratroopers watch with interest as the cart carrying the teenaged girl was brought into the torch-lit arena, the light falling on her dark clothes and illuminating her golden hair—once a fiery reddish-blonde, but the color now muted with dust.

She was completely still, without movement. She looked frail and helpless. He was sure that in their minds they were admiring her youth, her delicate beauty, even in repose; that they were asking themselves, as he had, _this is the Witch Lilith, the demoness? This young girl is the unspeakable terror we seek to protect SOLOMON from?_

A flash of memory, and suddenly he was again seven years old in the garden behind his house, staring at the strange chestnut-haired maiden. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her serene green eyes glinted at him in the fading light of the afternoon sun.

Seth turned his face away from the sight of her, staring pensively at a spot in the distance before turning completely back to the convoy ahead of him. He watched as they now entered the center of _il Campo_, the priests and Craft-users breaking file to spread out and surround the pyre on all sides, the sheer magnitude of the nighttime ceremonial turnout hitting him full force. This was an execution of epic proportions.

He hoped they knew what they were doing.

He hoped _he_ knew what he was doing.

Upon finally making its arrival at the front of the stake, the cart bearing her was halted. The monks who had led her in moved to undo her bindings, but Seth stepped up quickly, removing the Cabal's hood to reveal his shock of blond hair.

"Wait! Let me," he insisted, going to her and beginning to loosen the knots of the restraints holding her to the cart's fixture. "I am responsible for her." The monks stepped away obediently, albeit no less curious as they looked at one another and then at him. From where he stood at the pulpit lighting ceremonial black candles, Vasile turned to watch with interest.

Seth removed the rope that bound her and took Robin carefully in his arms, all loose limbs and flowing locks, her hair draped over his shoulder like a honey-colored curtain. Her head was tipped back, her pink lips slack and half-open. He fought not to hazard a glimpse of her face, for fear he wouldn't be able to carry her to the unlit pyre; instead he looked carefully straight ahead and focused on the ten-foot-tall beam, surrounded on all sides by extremely dry kindling. Out of the corner of his eye he visualized members of his Coven watching him with various measures of suspicion and distaste. He ascended the short wooden plank steps leading up to the platform surrounding the beam, noting the firewood assembled around it, above and below it; at the edges were twigs of what he recognized as _fatwood_, a soft pine wood naturally saturated with highly flammable pitch. The realization that she would burn relatively quickly did little to alleviate his discomfort.

The beam itself now loomed at the forefront of his vision, reaching up towards the heavens. Attached to it at the appropriate height were cables of thick, sturdy rope. Seth lowered her in his arms, feet first so that they touched the ground; he began to bind her to the stake, leaning her up against the wood, her head bowing loosely forward. As he did he lowered his head to her ear, and he could feel it against his neck—the barest whisper of her slight, shallow breath across his skin.

"I couldn't do it," he whispered quietly to the chestnut-blonde head, telling her what she in her insentience already knew. Over the microphone he heard Vasile begin to speak to the gathered crowd in Italian, addressing the priests and Craft-users prior to the reading of the _Testament of Solomon_. "_Madre, mi perdoni_," he continued to murmur into her ear, "but I'm a coward. I couldn't kill you with my own bare hands. So I prepare you now at the stake, to hide from them the fact that you still breathe."

He paused long enough to listen to the thunderous tenor of Vasile's speech over the microphone. "I was waiting for a sign from you," he went on, "something that would alleviate my doubts about who you were…" His soft voice trailed off. "But I did not see it."

The Archbishop was now reading a prayer from the Testament: _Blessed art thou, O Lord God, who didst give SOLOMON such authority. Glory to thee and might unto the ages. Amen._

"I will not be the one to light the pyre," Seth continued in a hushed tone towards her ear, "but this must be done. Please understand I cannot sacrifice all that I've worked for, for you." An image of Sela came to his mind, and he bit his lip as he forcibly suppressed it. He cinched the final knot of the ropes holding her in place, and stepped back. Robin's head hung loosely forward, the remainder of her body strapped securely to the beam of wood.

"Lilith is a wild animal, an evil spirit, commanding eighteen myriads of destroynig angels," Vasile was saying to the crowd as he read from the text before him at the pulpit. "She is a bird, the screech owl, flitting about alone at night, filling the air with wailing. She is slippery and cunning; she tells Solomon herself, '_For I am a fierce spirit, of innumerable names and many shapes_.' Lilith goes about attacking newborn children and their mothers. She seduces men in their sleep in her succubus form, stealing their seed. She is the Black Moon, the doorway, the void through which Satan will enter to work his evil upon us. Unless she is destroyed, she will continue to exist and plague mankind for eternity.

"But tonight, we will finally extirpate her uncleanliness and evil from the face of the earth. And so begins the obliteration of Lilith."

**)O(**

Vasile looked pointedly at Seth, and bestowed a succinct nod in his direction before continuing.

"I of SOLOMON, having glorified the Lord, order her hair to be bound as she is hung up in front of the Temple of God; so that all of the Lord's children as they pass might see her punishment and glorify the Lord God of Israel, blessed be He, who has granted me this wisdom and authoritative power."

A monk approached Seth at the edge of the pyre, holding dark lengths of ribbon in his outstretched hand. Seth looked briefly towards Vasile, a flicker of confusion apparent in his features; then as understanding set in, he stiffly accepted the proffered ribbon and returned to the bound girl at the stake, his entire body appearing to protest the action. He used both hands to capture the volume of her reddish-blonde hair; then, remembering her unusual hairstyle, he twisted lengths of it up at the sides of her head, securing them with the ribbons as he had seen her once do, his lips forming a tight line during the entire process. As he did he could not help but be minutely thankful that Vasile hadn't insisted on the grotesque practice of shearing the head of the condemned.

"This is the finery that she uses to seduce mankind, to seduce Adam into copulating with her to produce demon offspring: her hair is long, red like a lily; her face is white and pink; pendants encircling her neck and at her ears; all of the ornaments of Egypt at her wrists. She uses these adornments to beguile; she stands at the corners of streets and highways in order to attract men, using the wiles of the harlot. I of SOLOMON command that she be stripped of her finery, her seductive powers reduced, and objectified before the Lord God, blessed be He."

Seth knew the ritual, and its relation to both the Testament and the _auto de fe_. _Strip the Witch of her precious amulets, her stones, her talismans that she might use to enact her magic. _

He stepped forward once more and placed his hand on the pendant she wore around her neck, the blood-red stone encased in silver filigree representing the Sacred and Immaculate Heart of Opus Dei, no longer fit for her to wear as an accused Witch. To his knowledge he had never seen her go without wearing it, strung on its leather cord and lying close to her own still-beating heart. Seth yanked abruptly, and the necklace came off in his hand. His gaze moved down to her hands, loose between the binds of rope, to the spiralling-gemstone bracelet on her wrist—yet another artifact she was never without. He wondered who had given it to her as he undid the bracelet's clasp, turning it over in the dim light briefly before pocketing it.

"Now with her body turned to ashes, may we purify ourselves before the Lord God, blessed be He; _Deus, Principium et Finis_."

At those words, Seth backed slowly away from the accused, toward the stairs that led to the ground. He heard the crowd begin to recite _Pater Noster_, and he saw Vasile leave the pulpit and approach the pyre, scepter and ram's horn in hand. _The Lesser Banishing Ritual_, he realized, _which is to be followed by the _pulsa d' nura_, the lashes of fire—the burning at the stake._ Seth glanced discreetly at the priests and monks surrounding the structure and kindling as he re-integrated himself into the multitude of onlookers, noting their serene gazes and vacant expressions as they chanted in Latin and looked upon the girl tied to the pyre. To his untrained eyes, it looked like rapture.

The Archbishop halted his steps before the stake. Scepter in hand, he raised it to touch it to his forehead, chanting, "_Atah…_" He lowered it along the length of his torso. "_Malkuth…_" He touched it to his right shoulder. "_Ve Geburah…_" His left. "_Ve Gedulah…_" He brought his hands together before him to grasp the scepter. "_Le olam, Amen._"

Vasile turned toward the southern end of the square, and using the golden staff slowly drew a pentagram in the air before him. He stabbed the scepter into the center of the invisible design, his voice resonating in the stillness. "_Adonai._" The Archbishop moved, turning to the west, facing the unlit pyre before him. He repeated his mid-air design, gracefully and fluidly as if it were a sacred dance. "_Elohim._" He repeated the movement facing north, chanting yet another name, "_El Shaddai_."

Seth closed his eyes, concentrating, feeling the thrum of the chanted words reverberating in the air around _il Campo_ as Vasile called upon the ineffable names of God. He could feel the tangible emanation of power with the release of the spoken words, knowing it was not from the Archbishop himself, who was not of Witches' blood—but from the Craft-users, the other members of the Cabal's army that surrounded him. The power vibrated and sizzled in the air all around, alive, electrifying. In his mind he envisioned a cone-like protective shield around the entire congregation; a cocoon of electric blue.

Finally the Archbishop turned toward the east, in the direction of the Duomo and the tower of Amon's internment, and delivered the last name. "_Yahweh._"

He spread his arms wide on either side of him, both scepter and _shofar_ still in hand, and bellowed into the dark cool air around him: "Before me, Raphael; behind me, Gabriel. On my right hand, Michael; on my left hand, Uriel. Before me flames the pentagram; behind me shines the six-rayed star. As I am protected by your angels, O Lord God, I deliver unto you the whore, Lilith; so that she may not be reborn, that you may smother both her and the specter of her, and cast her into Hell, damning her for all of eternity."

He then began the formal recitation of the curse, in its native, ancient tongue.

**)O(**

Robin hung suspended, stilled, a stalled moment in time. She had no concept of where she was; she was so weak that she couldn't will her limbs to move, or her eyes to open. But still she heard Amon's unwavering voice inside her head, rough and low, and thick with restrained emotion: _Don't hide from it. Don't pretend it doesn't exist. This is the real world._

Inside she knew what would happen, realized what was happening, despite her oblivion. _They will kill me._

_This is my trial. This is what Cortion ultimately meant when he first gave me Hagalaz as a rune of power, during my Inquisition. _She visualized the form of it clearly in her mind, and recalled the mysterious gravestone the Inquisitor had visited at STN-J. _Not the destructive wrath of nature, but pain and hardship; a test, a trial. A wake-up call. _

She remembered another symbol that had meant "wake-up call"; a vision revealing a black-armored skeleton bearing a banner on a white steed, bodies falling at the horse's hooves. The card Sela had shown her—_Death._

Then a sinking part of her understood, and accepted. _I will not try to escape the pain. I will not run from it. I will embrace the end willingly, and without fear. _Through death, she would be purified; she would not bear the guilt of her grandfather's death, or Amon's loss, or her inability to fulfill Maria's and Toudou's dreams and expectations as the Eve. She would be gone, be ashes. She would feel nothing, she would know nothing.

The voice spoke to her once more.

_All that you are, all that you have, has been stripped away. Your position within the organization, your partner, your ties to Juliano, your entire connection to SOLOMON—severed. Your Craft has been subdued. You are without strength. You are at your basest, most vulnerable form. _

_But, this is how all great transformations start; by stripping things to the bone, and building fresh upon the bare foundations. It is the only way to be reborn. Death humbles, but it also exults._

_Reborn_…she thought of Amon, and despaired. Many times she'd found him, and he her; but there were the disappointments, the long unending waits, the separations so laden with grief that they tore at her heart to recollect. And how many near misses had they suffered throughout the ages—how many times had they come so close, perhaps even within arms' reach of one another, and not even known it?

And, yet…

…and yet, there was also elation and delight in their reunion, the happiness she had felt upon finding him again. Even if she hadn't completely recognized him, the feelings of familiarity and calm, and serenity, and _coming home_ had been there; however brief, they could not have been denied. And because it had already occurred, they could be reborn yet again, somewhere in time, and regain what they had lost. It was not impossibility.

_I came so close, this time_, she lamented._ But this is not the end…I'll look for him. I **will** find him again. I won't rest or stop until I do. _

She directed her thoughts to the feminine whisper in her head. _When will I be with him again? One hundred years from now? Two hundred? How long must I wait?_

There was a long, silent pause before the response. _You will be with your God, soon._

The answer given her was not only insufficient but unsettling. Robin was slightly confused. _That's not what I meant; I was not referring to the Lord. Who is 'my God'? _

_Even in the darkest night, during your worst nightmares, you cling to your conviction when there is no light to be seen and everything is at its bleakest. **This** is why you were meant for him…you give him all of your strength, when he assumed he had none for himself; you brought him faith, when he had nothing left to believe in._

_This is the definition of hope. This is why you embody it._

Her heart bursting, Robin was desperate with her need to understand. _Meant for whom?_

_He who is Rich in Names_, the voice responded knowingly. _Breath of Life._ _The God of Winds. The Lord of Light. The one who is the true inspiration for the Biblical God of the Old Testament._

_The_ _God whose approval and love you seek…_and Robin felt, rather than envisaged, a flash of memory of her desire to please and assist Amon..._whose life you have protected as though it were your own. _Sheltering him with her fire, torching alive those who dared harm him. _The God whose judgment is the only one you will let determine the course of your own life._ She saw herself, as she closed her eyes and tilted her chin, exposed and vulnerable to his trained weapon.

_The first true form that humans recognized as divinity._ She imagined the cave drawing of the ram that Methuselah had shown her of the horned beast, the Devil. She saw Amon himself, with curving horns.

_What is his identity?_ _Who do you think he truly is? To whom have you endlessly prayed for deliverance, for **absolution?** _

Robin gasped to herself. His name was on the edge of her lips, ready to be spoken. _Oh, my God._

**)O(**

The sound of a trumpeting _shofar_ broke the stillness of the night air, following the curse. Its mournful bleating soared above the walls of _il Campo_, and the echo reverberated throughout the torch-lit square so that it seemed as though a hundred rams' horns sounded at once. Vasile blew the horn six more times, facing east in the direction of the Duomo.

Five hooded monks approached the pulpit where the Archbishop had previously stood. In their hands they carried pewter rods, and with them they snuffed the lit black candles, one by one, dousing the flames. Armed SOLOMON paratroopers began to put out the torches that had still flickered at the edges of _il Campo_.

Seth surreptitiously raised his eyes, his blond head still bowed. He watched each tiny spark being extinguished; he imagined each was a minute fragment of her soul, disappearing forever into the ether.

The surrounding darkness seemed to encroach upon them all with every candle that went out.

**)O(**

Robin felt a draining sense of panic beginning to set in. As the candles at the pulpit were snuffed, she felt her Craft—her very breath—being extinguished, smothered. _Air…I can't …I can't breathe…_

The voice spoke to her yet again.

_You think that you are embracing the end; you have been brought low, humbled, but only so that you can go higher than you ever have before. _As she heard the words, she saw a bird with brilliant red-gold plumage emerging from a nest of flaming fire, wings outstretched and reaching towards the heavens.

_Do not be frightened. A new Sun is rising, and with it comes a moment of great transformation; the power of change directed by an autonomous will._

The square was now completely encased in the gloom of night.

From somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered something about the Death card that Sela had shown to her; barely discernible, there was a glimpse of something shining emerging from the corner, so well hidden that her eyes had nearly skipped over it. It had been a sunrise.

_Amon…I am not afraid._

**)O(**

From the highest point of the Duomo's tower, Amon heard the sound of the _shofar_ in the square, the echo of it louder in his ears than the horn itself. He'd heard scattered whispers between the trumpeting resonances, beckoning him, calling to him, tormenting him with the promise of recollected memories; he fought against them halfheartedly now, his mental strength sapped, his physical strength all but diminished. He knew he was losing her. It didn't matter anymore.

So when he began to have a waking dream, imagining himself free of his bonds and walking slowly down a dark corridor, Amon was not entirely surprised.

The sound of the echoing _shofar_ outside faded away. Ahead of him, the hallway ended in a single door. He heard the faint, muffled noise of a child crying, and felt an overwhelming sense of dread; he was sure that he was walking into a childhood memory, a nightmare. His steps slowed before the door as though he meant to pause, but something made him reach for the knob and turn it.

The child's crying became a baby's contented gurgling as he entered. At the end of the room, on a large wooden-framed bed, lay Robin; chestnut-blonde hair tousled, her face flushed and damp with exertion, a dark-haired baby swathed in a blanket and nestled in her arms. As he approached the bedside he watched as she stared down into its tiny face, her green eyes so full of love, and for a moment he felt himself stop breathing. She turned her gaze upwards to meet his and the naked, undisguised joy he saw expressed in her smile was like the sun rising to him after the longest, darkest night.

She was safe. She was alive, and she was safe, and together they would—

He watched her cradle their child in her arms and felt simultaneously crushing waves of both love and fear, not knowing which of the two was stronger. There was love, because it was so much for him to gain; fear, because it was so much to lose.

But…

_This what I could have_, a voice inside him whispered. _This moment, this sliver of time, could be mine._

He came to this realization, his gaze never wavering from her green eyes, just as the scenery around them began to change like a whirlwind—the room and bed sheets and baby disappearing, and replaced by wood, ropes, and fire. She was tied to a beam at least ten feet high. Robin was burning at the stake.

The flame had been lit underneath her and leapt up around her pilgrim's dress, scorching her legs and singeing her hair. Her face had turned from rapture to agony. She did not cry or scream, simply mouthed his name with tears in her eyes; but would not use her Craft to protect herself. It was as if she were powerless—_Why? Why can't she protect herself?!? _

_**Robin! **_

He heard her name in the form of a scream and realized belatedly it was from his own throat, lost now to hysteria as he watched her skin beginning to burn and her eyes swimming with pain…green, shimmering waves of green upon green until it threatened to consume the breath from his lungs. He threw himself into the fire and tried to grasp her through it; but his fingers couldn't hold her, the flames dancing harmlessly around him—nearly taunting him—as they devoured her, licking at her dress and feet and engulfing her in thick black smoke. And just as he could not touch her, so he knew the answer to his question was just as elusive; simple, and yet out of his reach.

His head in his hands, he fell to his knees with the convulsive force of his emotions, her name still on his lips. In a panicked frenzy he wanted to gouge out his eyes, tear his hair from his head and bury himself alive—anything so that he didn't see her suffering, didn't have to watch her die, knowing that he was cursed a thousand times over to live.

Something inside him broke open, shattered completely; like a raw wound, the agony went straight to the core of him.

_I'll do anything…just stop…stop it…._

…_**Okaasan, yamero!** …_

And in his mind his mother's voice spoke his name, as he had heard it so many times before—but this time, he listened. This time he did not try to shut her memory out. This time he would remember.

_Amon._

_Matoko, _he begged_…help me. Show me what to do. _He gave himself completely to vivid recollection and his entire body went rigid, every muscle tense.

Behind his eyes he saw brilliant and blinding white light, as though the slates of his memories were being wiped completely clean, and in that shining moment he knew nothing—not pain, or anger, nor fear or doubt. She spoke to him again with the gentle tone that he remembered from his childhood.

_Torihanaso. _

**)O(**

He is seven years old. He is just a young boy, with an unruly, rakish mop of cropped black hair and soft grey eyes.

He is at school, in the schoolyard at recess; and in the distance he sees a group of boys crowded around something on the ground. When he gets close enough, he realizes it is a young bird, an injured bird—with a brilliant, chestnut-red breast. The boys are taunting it, and one boy in particular has already bloodied its wing with sticks and rocks so that it can't escape. The bird fights hard for self-preservation, to no avail. Finally, no longer able to defend itself, it collapses; exhausted, it lies on the ground bleeding, its red chest rising and falling rapidly, dark beady eyes flickering vulnerably from one abusive human to the next.

His peers are egging the lead tormenter on; but Amon looks at the helpless animal as it struggles to live, and something powerful wells up inside of him.

"_Yamero!"_ he shouts at them as he pushes them aside roughly, and he bends down to tenderly cradle the young bird in his hands. It is too weak to fight him. The boys yell at him and stomp off angrily, grumbling that he's never any fun, and that one day the stick up his ass is going to poke out of his rib cage.

He wraps the bird in tissue and hides it in his desk; after school he brings it home to Matoko.

She is waiting for him at the door when he arrives, as she usually does after his school day. She has made him a snack of _gen mai cha,_ and seaweed with rice crackers. She watches with interest as he unveils the little wounded bird within the tissue; and without another word, but with a mother's sensitivity, she takes it from his hands and goes about tending to its injuries, bandaging the bird's wing gently and painstakingly.

Amon digs up earthworms in their modest backyard. He feeds the bird by hand, and takes pleasure in watching it get progressively stronger and more confident. He finds himself wondering how it was satisfying to torment something so defenseless and vulnerable, and he sees his mother watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Within days the bird has healed, and they let it loose. Matoko is proud of him, calling him her protective, gentle son.

But Amon is angry. Justice must be served.

The following morning at the schoolyard he is stern and tight-lipped. He restrains himself until recess, when he hunts down the ringleader to confront him for his cruelty. The boy is defiant and sarcastic as he approaches, but his bravado is quickly replaced with fear when he sees the fury boiling in the dark grey depths.

Amon corners him as the boy's cohorts scatter, and catches the collar of his shirt as he tries to flee. He wrestles the screaming bully down onto the pavement in seconds, despite being of slightly smaller build. By now the yelling and commotion has brought a crowd of other schoolchildren over to watch. Amon pins him down, his fist poised above the boy's face ready to strike, to show him just how it feels to be wounded and terrorized. But he suddenly stops short, as the boy's shirt has pulled up during the struggle, to reveal horrible bruises—some yellowed, but some still black and blue and fresh—on his stomach and chest.

It takes a moment for what he sees before him to register, and in the pause the boy pulls his shirt down again before the crowd of onlookers and runs off, red-faced and crying in a fit of fear and shame, screaming that he's sorry.

Amon sits back on his heels on the pavement, bewildered and numb. He stares after the boy, and then at his own hands for long moments.

He returns home to his mother at the end of the day, trudging his feet along the path, his eyes downcast and heart heavy. Matoko notices immediately and enfolds him against her apron, ruffling his dark hair and drying the beginnings of his tears with the back of her fingers. She chastises him gently. "My little one. You worry so much. Why is there such sadness in your eyes?"

"I'm no good. I'm weak," he sighs dejectedly in a choking breath. She asks him to explain, and he tells her about the bully's bruises. "I was going to punish him, for what he did, but…I couldn't do it. Someone had already hurt him…maybe just as badly as he'd wanted to hurt the bird."

His mother's eyes change as he tells her this, and she kneels to his height and wraps her arms around him. "Amon, you're not weak; you're merciful," she assures him, releasing him from her hug and looking into his eyes, "and there is a difference between the two. You do not let your anger control you or get the best of you. That is strength, not weakness."

He still doubts his choice of actions, even as she pulls him to the chair and onto her lap. "But how do people know when to punish, and when to be merciful?" he asks reasonably.

Matoko gives a sage nod. "That is not always easy. But people, like this boy who hurt the bird, are not inherently evil. Sometimes, those who have themselves been terribly hurt, develop the desire to hurt others." She runs her fingers through his hair. "But when they realize that they are wrong, and that they have made a mistake, it's all right to give them another chance. That is compassion.

"But just as there is a time for compassion, there is also a time for enacting justice; for righting something that is wrong. And someday, Amon, you will know when the right time is to truly unleash your strength; to fight without holding back, to defend what is yours, and to punish someone who attempts to harm you without remorse…" She hugs him against her again, resting her chin atop his dark head, and her voice slows and becomes quiet. "…Or someone who attempts to harm what is precious to you."

He unconsciously hears the underlying sadness in her words, and he snuggles further into her embrace. "_Okaasan_, you'll be with me always, won't you?" He tries to peek upwards at her face from her lap, and catches a glimpse of her bittersweet smile.

_You are not alone,_ she whispers into his ear, and it soothes him. _Although you might think that you are, you will never be alone._

—The barriers in his mind, the ones that had kept his memories in check, had all but melted away. They came in now like the tide from the ocean, to his consciousness; overflowing with sounds and images and feelings. His mother was kind and gentle. She had been beautiful, benevolent. He had not imagined these things from his childhood.

She had been his anchor. To a young boy, she had been the center of his universe. And she had told him in so many words, that it was his own compassion which would ultimately grant him the ability to become what he was meant to be.

With her encouragement, he had fostered forgiveness. Because of her, he knew how to recognize love.

And again he saw himself; this time as he traipsed through the hallway of Harry's, gin on his breath, his thoughts racing in time to his hammering heartbeat. Just ahead of him she was rounding the corner, the edges of her pilgrim's dress and delicate white hands coming into his view.

_Are you ready?_ His mother's question pierced his thoughts, and he knew what she asked.

_When? When will it happen?_

_Soon. But first, you must see that which was not initially revealed to you. _—

The memory fades, and in his mind a new one begins to take shape.

He is in the living room with his toys, quietly absorbed in thoughtful play. Matoko is in the kitchen when the noise at the door sounds; he doesn't even stir from his tasks as she goes to answer it.

At the door she finds five SOLOMON agents, unsmiling and intimidating. She is instantly on guard, her back stiffening and her eyes filling with trepidation.

"What do you want?" she asks them uncertainly. She turns her head to look briefly at her son in the distant living room before facing the agents again—

And as he watched the scene before him unfolding in his adult mind, Amon understood that in this exchange he was privy to not only his own memories, but his mother's—

"We've come for him, Ms. Syunji," an agent responds, firmly but quietly.

Matoko shakes her head at them, in confused and hesitant denial. "No…you can't; you told me the tests last week were the end of it, that there were no more—you promised me, that—"

"We've had a change of plans." The reply is terse and short.

She is crestfallen at their betrayal. "It's never going to end, is it?" she asks, her lips trembling slightly as she speaks. "You'll just keep coming for him, more and more, until one day you'll…" she pauses, her eyes hardening as she comes to realization, "…take him from me."

The agents are unmoved, and in his impatience one of them shows her his semiautomatic weapon, concealed within his coat. "Move aside; or we will enter the premises by force." In the living room Amon looks up from his play and towards the foyer, unconcerned but slightly curious.

"_No,_" Matoko tells the men in the doorway in a furious whisper, so that her son cannot overhear. "_Go away!"_ She tries to shut the door in their faces. "There is nothing for you, here!"

She attempts to slam the door, throwing her weight against it; but the men are stronger. They block her efforts and the force of their actions knocks her slightly backwards. Matoko gasps in astonishment.

"Ms. Syunji, this will be much easier if you cease resisting us."

Now Amon approaches the foyer from the living room, having heard the sounds of hushed arguments, and recognizes the agents standing in their house. Unlike his mother, he is not concerned; he is accustomed to them. He has gone with them many times before, for strange tests and interviews, but they have never harmed him and he does not fear them.

He cannot understand why Matoko is so anxious and apprehensive as she eyes them. "_Okaasan?_" he asks, his expression troubled as he looks at her.

She sees him now, standing in the foyer with his disheveled hair and curious eyes; and Matoko can't stop herself from going to him. She pulls him towards her, away from the men standing in the entryway of their home, looking back at them with determined ferocity as she holds onto her son by the shoulders. "You're not taking him."

Amon looks up into her face, questioningly. "_Okaasan_, it's just for tests."

But his child's eyes don't see the semi-automatic weaponry that all of the agents are concealing from his view. His mother sees it, all of it—and she is afraid. Her hands dig firmly into his shoulders, and he winces slightly.

— Amon realized, _there were no more 'tests'; they had come to take me away permanently that day _—

There is a momentary standoff as Matoko and the agents eye each other, Amon glancing confusedly between them. Then, one of the men steps forward and calmly takes hold of the boy's forearm. "Amon, it's time to go."

Matoko clutches his other arm. "No," she protests, close to tears, but another agent has already placed himself between herself and Amon, pressing her away, pulling her apart from her son. She clings desperately to his wrist. Her face crumples and she begins to cry.

"_Please don't take him,_" she begs, even as the agent bears down on her menacingly.

"Be silent," he orders, firmly restraining her by the arm, his voice low and outside of a child's earshot, "or the situation will be forced to escalate into something not to your liking." She chokes on a sob as he continues. "Keep in mind that we own him—as we do, you—and we will not hesitate to kill him, should the need arise." He flashes a view of his weapon to make his point. "_We'll take care of him just as we took care of your husband._"

Her eyes are filled with pain at that statement, and in her stunned silence her tremulous grip on her son loosens. He is pulled away out of her reach, her hands now grasping the empty air, and the agents begin to bear him away, leaving her to stand alone and bereft.

Seven-year-old Amon does not see his mother's expression, as he's too busy studying the agents who are holding him and leading him towards the door.

— But his adult mind captured Matoko's look of defeat, of saddened resignation…of yielding, of letting go; and from the courtyard, he envisioned Robin's countenance super-imposed on his mother's. _She realized she had nothing now to live for_. —

At the threshold of the foyer, Amon looks back and catches only a brief flash of his mother's anguished, tear-stained face…and then watches as a sudden, shuddering calm comes over her, like rain. She becomes still; her breathing slows. Her entire body relaxes, almost as though she is entranced. Matoko exhales, slowly and purposefully; and he understands then that something about her has changed, something basic and elemental.

Then, her expression hardens—and in a cold, stern voice, a sudden renewed show of strength, she tells them to stop. "_Yamenasai._" Her warning goes unheeded.

And then the memory abruptly speeds up, as all hell breaks loose.

One of the agents pauses before he reaches the door, suddenly holding his head and groaning. The others turn to look at him, fearfully, as the man falls to his knees, and his groans of pain become wails of agony. The agent's flesh begins to melt, liquefying from his bones; and one by one it begins to happen to all of them. They begin to scream, before their vocal chords are choked off by their own dissolving fluids.

Amon himself screams, horrified as it happens to the man holding him, yanking his arm away from the disintegrated skin and blood and gore. He sees Matoko's determined expression as she concentrates her power, and he realizes she is responsible.

Over his own shrieks of terror he hears his mother shouting at him, the words indecipherable as he is surrounded by screaming chaos. She has never raised her voice against him, before. He doesn't understand. She has become someone he does not recognize.

He begs, pleads with her to stop, tears forming in his eyes as he yells at her. "_Yamero, 'Kaasan! Onegai…**yamero!**_"

—In _il Campo_, the torches were finally lit with a flash; the fires that would burn Robin at the stake. At the same time, at the table in her darkened kitchen in Sovana, Jana bowed her head remorsefully.

Amon, still bound and chained in the Duomo's tower, now heard what had been hidden from him before. —

She is yelling for him to _run_ as she does battle against the SOLOMON agents—to run away, to get out, to escape them. "_I won't have them do this to you,_" she cries out to him, amidst the screams of the men. "_I won't let you die!_"

…_you are so precious to me… _

Six additional agents have entered the apartment as backup, from outside. They shout commands to one another, and three of them load and lock their rune-shelled rifles.

_She tried to free me_, he realized. It was just as Jana had said; Matoko had been in control the entire time. She had not gone insane, but had knowingly forfeited her life for his. She had awakened for _him_, not his father.

Love was what had awakened her, not greed, not lust for control…love had granted her the power to attempt to free him.

In the square below his imprisonment, five hooded members of SOLOMON's Caballic priesthood begin to approach the stake in a circle, each bearing lit torches and surrounding her unconscious form from all five corners.

—_you must make your own choice, you cannot do it any other way. It is the lesson of the Hanged Man; only when we give ourselves over to it completely, can we master it and emerge victorious._

In his memory, he could still see out of the corner of his seven-year-old eye as the remaining agents drew their rune weapons. He remembered Vincenzo's words: _induce a traumatic event early on in their young lives to make them hate their own kind, and stay loyal to the organization._ They had come for him on this day and baited her, purposefully—to frighten him into turning against her.

—_someday you will know when the right time is…to protect what is precious to you. _

Amon felt his entire body relax, even as his eyes brimmed with tears, still witness to his mother's final moments as her blood was shed; they spilled over as he took a long, protracted breath. _Okaasan, _he thought, using the honorific he hadn't called her since childhood._ …Sumimasen deshita. I didn't know._ He pictured her again in those long moments as she became still, her breathing slowing, yielding…becoming surrender, laying down the last vestiges of resistance.

He closed his eyes. _Thank you._

He released his held breath in a slow, shuddering exhale. There was a whisper of fear; then, surprise…bewildered awe…and amazement.

—_I have faith in your heart._

And then, _joy_.

**)O(**

At the stake, Robin inhaled sharply, the air whistling past her lips in a surprised gasp.

The fire had just been lit, the hooded priests having stepped back after touching their torches to the firewood, and it was steadily approaching the pit underneath her.

At the same time, a spontaneous wind started up in the circle surrounding the stake. The members of SOLOMON raised their heads in mild curiosity at the zephyr, at first only a light breeze ruffling the robes at the priests' ankles; their expressions abruptly changed a moment later to outright fear when the wind strengthened exponentially, whipping the air with increasing ferocity and disrupting their robes and hoods, blowing dirt into their eyes.

They shouted to one another in panicked voices, pointed at the girl still tied to the stake as the culprit—just as the rush of air blew such a gust that it scattered the entire supply of wood from the flames' path out from under the pyre in all directions, effectively dousing it before it could harm her. Members of the Cabal ducked the flying projectiles of lit firewood.

Robin felt her strength returning in a rush of release, her chest heaving with each new breath. Hope swelled within her, filling the emptiness and bare crevices in her heart with its liberating wind. Her skin sang, every nerve alert, her entire being vibrating with the realization of the moment.

_Amon. He is here._

And then the voice, again in her head: _He is here, now…your God is with you!_

In the disarrayed center of _il Campo_ that was quickly becoming a whirling vortex of chaos, Seth futilely attempted to shelter his face from the cyclone's onslaught as well as from dust and debris. He watched as the priests and the Archbishop tried in vain to protect themselves as they ran for cover. Paratroopers barked commands over the wind, several of them manning the Ariete tanks and aiming the turrets at the center of the square.

Seth squinted his eyes as he peered at Robin, still tied at the stake. She was almost untouched by the wind, as though she were in the eye of it; though he could see the rise and fall of her chest, he saw that her eyes were still tightly closed. Something clicked.

_This is not her conscious doing._

He swung his panicked and disbelieving gaze across to the Duomo's tower, upwards to the very highest cell window, and his eyes fixed there for several seconds as realization finally sank in.

He reached for his two-way radio, and screamed into it above the roar of the surrounding noise: "It's him! It's not her—it's _him!_"

**)O(**

The five paratroopers that had been stationed at the lower part of the Duomo's tower, armed and in full riot gear, rushed up the tower steps two and three at a time. At the sixth floor they reached the summit, flanking one another as they destroyed the deadbolt lock and kicked the door in; only to find Amon's cell empty, the metal shackles previously restraining him now dangling limply from the wall.

In their confusion they went to the window and stood for several seconds facing each dim and empty corner, directing the scopes of their semi-automatic rifles aimlessly. "Where is he?!?"

From somewhere near the center of the room, a harsh gale of wind erupted and knocked them to the floor. They cried out as their guns clattered on the cement ground; fearfully they raised their heads to confront the Witch attacking them—but saw nothing.

One of the soldiers suddenly convulsed, holding his head and writhing on the ground, his weapon all but forgotten. The four others leapt immediately to their feet with their rifles—only to be assailed again by another furious blast of wind, this time sweeping them out of the open sixth-story window and out onto the Duomo's roof below.

On the ground Seth looked up at the Duomo, his confidence shattered; in horror he and the members of the Cabal watched the first squadron sailing helplessly through the air, screaming as they fell. He returned his gaze briefly back to the sixth floor of the tower—

And then in the darkness he saw a partial figure standing near the window's ledge, and strained to look further.

**)O(**

Amon stood at the threshold of his cell. In the darkness below him, he could see the four SOLOMON paratroopers sprawled out on the roof underneath the tower. He looked further down, beyond the Duomo's roof at the expanse of _il Campo_, and saw Robin tied to the stake, surrounded by the windstorm of his own creation.

He looked down at his hands, newly re-materialized—as well as the rest of him—after having visibly disappeared moments earlier. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, felt his newly-acquired power nearly leaching from him. Surely he wasn't imagining this, still asleep on the cold stone floor of his prison—he couldn't be; this raw and potent energy was real and pure, willing to do his bidding as he could feel it virtually radiating from him. He felt alive, awakened, as though everything prior had been but a mean sleep.

The movement on the floor caught his eye, and Amon glanced down at the paratrooper who still twitched in and out of consciousness on the ground before him. The other four had been unaffected, and had leapt to their feet; but this one had fallen to his knees, crazed, writhing as if in pain. It brought to his mind the image of Zaizen's Factory soldiers as they held their heads, distraught with the effects of the Orbo pendants they wore at their necks. Humans could not withstand the side effects of the Witch-derived substance—even Zaizen himself had succumbed to it at the end. For Seeds and Craft-users, the Orbo dulled and nullified their abilities; but humans were rendered unconscious, and if exposed to it long enough, it drove them to madness.

_They were not meant to wield such power_, he realized, and as an afterthought, _**my** power._

_This_ was why it had no effect on him, even when Zaizen had shot him with it in Factory—the purest form yet of this substance ran through his veins, danced along the nerves underneath his skin. It could not harm him—it was _from_ him. Only on Robin it had no effect; she alone was powerful enough to destroy it, as she had demonstrated before the Factory's collapse.

He looked out of the cell's window again at the stake, and his heart lurched. _Robin._ For so long he had tried to restrain her, to hinder her strength out of his own desperate fears. Now she was as close as she'd ever been to powerlessness.

Suddenly everything was laid before him in clear, sharp focus. She was right, of course; everyone did have some darkness within them. There was no light without shade, no beauty without ugliness, no white without black. The capacity for kindness and mercy could only exist alongside the willingness to punish, and the knowledge of the difference of the two. She, like his mother, was a blend of both the nurturing and the terrible. To accept her, to love her, he had to embrace her innate duality. He could no longer hold her back—he no longer wanted to. Even now, without her he was nothing.

Her secret, hidden name came to his mind; Amon mouthed it silently to himself, tried it out on his lips.

He stepped onto the open sill, one hand braced on the bare frame. The wind outside tousled his dark hair. For some reason it was Seth's bleak words that he thought of, as he stood at the threshold: _there is no forgiveness for us…no salvation, and no forgiveness._

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps they never would see forgiveness for what they were. Perhaps nothing he or Robin could do would ever change that.

_But, _he thought,_ there is another truth that has been concealed from us, all this time—and that is, that we **don't need** forgiveness. That no one has that authority over us. That there is nothing to be saved from, or forgiven for. We have yet to commit these transgressions for which we are judged so harshly. We've committed no sin._

He looked back once more towards the dim corners of his prison cell and for a brief instant he saw her again, as she was before her death; calm, beautiful, at peace. Matoko watched him with gentle sadness in her eyes.

_From here on, there will be no regrets. _

"I leave them here, in this room, with you, _Okaasan_," he whispered to the darkened room, as her vision faded into the shadows.

He looked back out at _il Campo_ below, the wind around him intensifying in strength. He felt it surrounding him, buoying him. He stepped deliberately off the edge.

And Amon fell to earth, like the descent of the morning star.

**)O(**

The attention of the entire assemblage on the ground was captured by a brilliant, blinding light emanating from the top floor of the tower—so bright, that they had to shield their eyes from its source. The light levitated, rode the air, as it coursed downward into the square of _il Campo_. Seth gasped to himself as he protected his eyes; it was like looking upon a million suns at midnight.

Floodlights guarded by SOLOMON paratroopers at the edges of the plaza were turned on, and swung in the direction of the radiance in an attempt to blind whomever was the cause of it; but the lamps lost their brilliance in the presence of the blazing light, just as stars did at the rising of the sun or the moon. The harsh winds that still tore at the group surrounding the stake then abruptly changed their course, striking the floodlights and knocking them to the ground, bulbs and lenses shattering amidst the shouts of the Cabal.

The soldiers manning the tanks and weaponry took aim, sighting the luminous vision in their crosshairs as best as they were able—but within moments the human operators of the devices began staggering, convulsing, their weapons falling to the ground only shortly before they did. The Ariete tanks became deathly still and silent.

Seth, rooted to the earth, was agape in the middle of such disarray. He whispered a single word.

"_Lucifer._"

_Light-bringer._

The other Witches—the members of the Cabal—attempted to use their Crafts against the being approaching them, their collective energies focusing and converging at the light in the sky; but their powers were completely deflected and useless. The gales of wind still encircling them whipped mercilessly, forcing them off-balance and onto their knees in the dirt before the pyre.

Seth watched him approach, stunned and helpless. He realized suddenly that he was witnessing an event over three thousand years old in the making.

Judgment Day.

**)O(**

The ever-present, soft, feminine voice in Robin's head was hopeful and full of promise. _You see?_ _This is your God, in the flesh. He is of you, and you are his. Your God has not abandoned you, he will never abandon you—he will follow you through the endless eons, rebirth after rebirth, waiting for you to awaken him. He will be with you, always. _

It was Amon…all of this time, it had been him. All of her life she had gleaned consolation from knowing that she was not alone, that God listened to her, God would not turn from her….that He loved her. Though she could never hear Him, see Him or touch Him, she knew; she knew He existed somewhere when she woke up at night, shivering in the darkness from a nightmare. She knew He would comfort her, if he were at her side. _God does not abandon anyone._

It was _Amon_.

Robin slowly opened her eyes. She pulled her hands and wrists free at her sides from the stake; the rope binding them had somehow turned to ash. Her vision as she looked up was filled with light and splendor, and in the radiant center of all of it, she saw Amon approaching her.

She remembered the Death Card, the sunrise in the corner of it._ He is not Nauthiz, he is not stagnation or distress—he is Dagaz._ _He is_ _the revealer, the rising sun, emerging from twilight. He signals the end of dark times._

_He dispels the darkness with his presence. _Amon, backlit with an STN-J searchlight. _He is the Illuminator, and reveals all that is hidden. _Amon interrupting the raid at Raven's Flat, his flash-bang blinding so brightly that she had to avert her eyes. _He scatters all falsehoods—like cowardly shadows scurrying into the recesses of night—and establishes truth._

Her face felt wet, and she realized she was crying—but she had never before felt such joy. _I know him. I've always known him._

He reached her side, his feet touching down gently on the landing of the pyre's platform, and he immediately swept her up in his fervent embrace, crushing her to him. She felt the strength from his Craft reaching into her, touching something inside, renewing. Robin thought it impossible that her heart could feel any fuller, and yet it continued to feel as though it expanded in her chest.

She threw her arms around him in return, burying her face in the dark hair at his neck, making the nape of it wet with her tears. Her breath came in hiccups, made of half sobs and half laughter.

_He found his way back to me. We are together. He was meant for me, he renews me—as I was meant to protect him and awaken him, he is the source of my power._

_This was the secret, the Arcanum that no one knew. _

He pressed his lips against the shell of her ear and whispered a name into it. Her emerald eyes went wide as she listened, then glazed over; but the feminine voice responded instantly. _I know that name well. It is one we both share, you and I._

_Then—_

_Yes, _came the answer. _I am you. I have always been you; I am that which you were meant to become. I am your inner light._

_Now, _the voice continued_, do you know who you **really** are? _

Still in Amon's arms, his light continuing to shine brightly around them, she opened her eyes to look out over his shoulder at the multitude of people filling the square. She saw a cacophony of expressions on the faces directed towards her; anger, confusion, and awe. The words came to her consciousness like ripples of water.

_I am Diana, _Robin thought, _I am Aradia. I am Bast, I am Lilith. I am them **all**. I am how they see me—beauty, goodness, terror and destruction. Each sees a different side, but I am all, one and the same. _

_I am the Mother, _as she saw Seth gazing up at her, enraptured. _I am the Ancient One. I am blessing, and I am freedom. _Soldiers in full uniform—Seeds—lowered their weapons, staring at her with new understanding as her eyes passed over each one._ I am peace, and war has come because of me. _

She clung tightly to Amon and felt him hold on more securely in response. _I am his ruler, and whatever he wills happens to me. _

_For him, I am gentleness, and I am wrath. With him, I am the creator who awakens, and I am the destroyer who eliminates. _

But it was the Cabal's Army, the Craft-users, who now captured her attention. They glared at her sullenly from where they had been forced to kneel in the dirt before the stake, held prisoner by the fierce wind, their thwarted Crafts useless. The revulsion in their eyes gave her pause. She realized then that they did not see Amon—although they could see his light, his form was not visible to them.

In her ear, Robin heard him whisper again. _I am hidden from them within the light. But they can see you…and they will try to kill you if you let them. You must act._

Out of the corner of her eye she spied Hedya lurching unsteadily to her feet, struggling to pull herself upright against the wind. The blonde woman had gained enough strength to stumble from the scene, pushing aside the weak humans curled in fetal position and groaning on the ground, as she made her way towards an Ariete tank. She moved as though she would shove the unconscious pilot out before taking his place. Chanan, Noa and a few others followed her lead with effort and moved to pick up weapons.

Robin watched them carefully as she slowly released her hold on Amon's neck and gently pulled herself from his grasp. Her tears had dried on her face from the synergy of his wind and the rising heat in her blood; her resolve had hardened into steel at witnessing the actions of the Witches before her.

_I may have many names, and many purposes,_ she thought,_ but above all, I am **Robin**. _She could see the judgment and anger radiating from them in waves.

_And I do **not** forgive them._

The wind noticeably died down within _il Campo_, and the light faded around her to a dull glow. Though he was hidden to them she could feel him still close at her side, winding his hand in her hair, curling his invisible fingers around her arm. _Become his avenger, his retribution, his right eye of justice. Become his destroyer._

She raised her eyes slowly, with sly reproach, to the betrayers who took their aim with semi-automatic rifles. "You would take up arms against me, now, after all you have seen?" she asked them, almost demurely.

Noa stood unflinching at the forefront of the group. "We are fulfilling our duty under God, our obligation to SOLOMON," she insisted acidly.

"You have no obligation to them," Robin responded with quiet assurance. She looked beyond Noa at the other soldiers and Craft-users standing before her holding trained weapons, and directed her words to them with a strengthened voice. "Refuse their bidding and enter into a covenant with us," she instructed. "Refuse to hunt, all of you—and we will have no quarrel."

"And why should we listen to you?" demanded Chanan, brandishing a rifle as he stood beside the brunette woman. Seth lifted his chin as he watched the exchange, waiting for her reply.

"Because I am she, whom you have been waiting for," Robin answered, "and as long as you continue to hunt your own kind, I will not stand for it."

From a short distance away, they heard an angry shout. "Blasphemy!" Vasile was on the ground, weakened by Amon's power—but resisting it as best he could. He trembled and shook with the effort it took to brace his upper body with his forearms to regard Robin, his face twisted in exertion and fury. "No one should have divinity, no one should have the power of 'gods'!" he raged on. "You do not have the right to choose the fates of others!"

"Yet we have the right to choose our own," she reminded him serenely, "as everyone does; _it no longer belongs to you._ We will not cower and hide under your shadow any longer."

"What about the Witches who will abuse their powers? They will not spare any that are weaker!"

"Let them come to me," she instructed. "I will show them, by example, a new world where they can live openly among humankind, without fear. You who inspire jealousy among the gods, let them come to me; and I will demonstrate to them that there is no need for fear or envy.

"But as long as you deny them their futures, drive them into the shadows, make them fear themselves and others like them, they will continue to be destructive."

Enraged with losing the argument, Vasile began screaming at the top of his lungs. "You _have no future_ and must be destroyed, all like you wiped out. _All of you!_" Seth looked over at him in surprise, as did many of the Craft-users and paratroopers. "There cannot be any left who can carry on the genes, it is too dangerous! The only way you can be allowed to exist is if you relinquish your will to SOLOMON!"

Again she saw herself in the darkened Church hallway, at the long wooden table opposite Cortion. _You know what you must do. Surrender your will. Leave everything to us._

_I did not ask for these powers._

_Then why do you use them?_

She responded now as though she were still facing the Inquisitor, looking at the shadow of Hagalaz on the floor before her. The wake-up call.

_I use them, because they are a part of me, a part of who I am…and to deny them would be to deny myself—to deny my own existence._

She thought of the thousands of times she had given in, given up, surrendered both her determination and what was most precious to her; having done exactly as she was instructed. Waiting. Yielding. To defy them, to exercise her own resolve, was to side with Satan.

_The Devil is Free Will._

She understood, now. To keep what she loved, she would concede no more.

"No. I will not relinquish it." Her narrowed eyes sparked green fire.

"_My will is **mine**."_

There was complete darkness. Then she felt Amon's arms encircle her once more, and the light—_his_ light—rematerialized in an instant, completely enveloping her, wrapping her in brilliance as though it were her garment, as though she wore the radiant stars above her head, the moon at her feet, and the halo of the sun illuminating her form.

As the Witches looked on it appeared as though the two figures had become a singular, shining entity—nearly too bright to look at.

Seth tried to make himself move, succeeded in stumbling a few feet backwards. He watched as Robin was backlit by the light, and witnessed the previously-snuffed torches surrounding the square sparking into brilliant gold life around her. _What fools we were, _he realized,_ to think that she could be defeated by the very element that she commands to do her bidding. Our protection spells are nothing to her._

As he took a few more steps backwards, he heard Vasile recommence his screaming. "_Kill them,_" the Archbishop cried from the ground. "_Kill them!_"

Noa, brandishing her semi-automatic rifle, took aim and fired. The members of the Coven, as well as many more Craft-users and Seeds, took up their arms as well. As feared, the bullets and shells bounced harmlessly as Robin's shield of flame flared up around her shining form.

But it wasn't just a shield, this time.

The fire swelled and then came at them relentlessly; a roiling, crushing tsunami of light and heat that dissolved everything in its path. His wind fed into her as she directed her flame, and it danced and curled as it moved like a living, blazing wall, radiating outward from the circle of the pyre. The Craft-users faced it down fearlessly; some tried to run, but they had no time or place to take cover. Armor and bullets were ineffectual. They screamed only briefly as it devoured them, scorching, burning them away clean…purifying until nothing was left.

Vasile was incinerated as he cowered on the ground, cursing her even with his last breath. The Ariete tanks were no match; the inferno penetrated it, Hedya managing only to gasp aloud before her body was razed by the flames. All of _il Campo_ was on fire.

Only the unconscious humans and penitent Seeds and Craft-users—on the ground, without weapons—were untouched; everyone and everything else were reduced to ashes.

His wind came again in a harsh gale of dark and searing heat, sweeping the debris and dust from the earth, scattering the ash. The last remnants of flame flickered and slowly died as the whirling vortex gained strength, surrounding the stake and creating a windstorm that reached high into the heavens, far above the plaza.

And then, in the blink of an instant, it was gone.

**)O(**

A hand traveled gently, lovingly down his face.

Amon leaned into it, inhaling as he stirred, gradually becoming aware of his other senses. They were surrounded by trees—a forest somewhere. It was still dark, but the sky was beginning to lighten little by little with the promise of daybreak. His head was in her lap, as it had been once before when he'd been injured; he could feel the soft pilgrim's shift underneath his cheek that smelled of wood and smoke from a clean-burning fire.

Her hand tousled his hair again, softly twining her fingers in it. "You're finally awake," she whispered. Her voice sounded slightly choked, and against the protest of his aching limbs, he sat up and turned to face her.

Her emerald eyes were saddened, worried as she regarded him; and he felt a sudden mixture of surprise and remorse. "Robin," he breathed, "what is it?" He cupped her face in his hands, brushed the beginnings of moisture away from her eyes with the tips of his thumbs. "_Oshiete._"

"You've given it up," she whispered, pursing her lips as her chest constricted with emotion, "your humanity…Amon, you've changed, because of me—"

"It was what I wanted," he assured her, smoothing her chestnut-blonde hair gently from her face.

"Was it?" she asked fearfully, and he knew she was afraid on some level of his answer. "You can never be the way you were before, you can never take it back—"

"_I don't want to take it back,_" he whispered fervently, as he held her by the shoulders firmly. "Robin, I ran from you once; I'll never do it again." He cradled her face in his hands again to make her understand. "I'll never leave your side again."

She laughed then, in understanding and relief, in joy tinged with sadness; her same laughter when he'd reached her on the pyre, bathed in pure light. He pulled her into a tight embrace, overcome with emotion so powerful he could not put it into words.

The only thing he brought himself to say was a slightly unsteady, "It won't be easy."

He knew that underneath his simple statement, she heard everything he'd left unsaid. _We will be forever hunted and pursued._ _We will have to fight our way through every place we go. I will always assume the worst._ _I still have so many things I need to work through._ _I may never be able to tell you what I truly feel. _

_But I will stay with you…if you'll have me. _

He felt her smile against his collarbone, between where his neck met his shoulder; and he decided that part of him would always be hers, and hers alone.

"I know," she whispered simply in response.

He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. There was hope, yet. He moved his lips to her ear, casually pressing them against it; at the touch of his mouth to her skin he wanted more, and he pulled back from their embrace and kissed her lips, cupping her face in his hands. She returned it eagerly, her fingers curling into his hair at the back of his neck.

Desire and a dizzying hunger began to swell in him, and before he truly knew what he was doing he was deepening the kiss, his hands and tongue demanding and insistent; and although she at first responded breathlessly, she began to fend him off, pushing him away with gentleness.

"Amon…" She tried to separate her lips from his. "Not here…Amon, not now…later…"

He stopped, resting his forehead against hers, panting with need, outlining the contours of her face with his roaming fingers as he finally began to calm himself.

She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, holding it in place with her own. "There will be time. But not right now." She glanced upward at the sky. "Daylight is approaching. They will be looking. We have to be ready."

She stood fluidly, adjusting her shift, and reached down to him to help him up. "_Andiamo._" Her green eyes gleamed at him in the thin darkness.

_Iron in velvet._

He gazed up at her for a long moment, before taking her offered hand and allowing her to help him to rise.

Together they stood, hands linked, and headed off into the east; out of the expanse of green surrounding them.

* * *

I will give the secrets you request...and you will be the one to sacrifice. Pray your gods who hold you by your fear, for they are quick and ruthless punishers...or lay upon my altar now your love. Chapter 20 – Epilogue.

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Translations (Italian, unless otherwise stated): 

_ciò che stai facendo?_: what are you doing?  
_signore_: sir  
_che palle_: what a nuisance  
_taci_: hold your tongue, shut up  
_budiulo_: asshole  
_mio figlio_: my son  
_pulsa d'nura_: (Aramaic) "lashes of fire". From the Zohar, this is a Qabalist (or Kabbalist) cursing ceremony in which God's wrath is invoked against someone who is believed to be a sinner; it can also be construed to be heavenly punishment against a person who does not fulfill their religious obligations. Incidentally, there is no other real translation (into English or any other language) of the actual pulsa d'nura curse, which is why I did not provide one in this fic. Supposedly the subject matter is too powerful. oO  
_capisco_: I see now  
_mi perdoni_: forgive me  
_non capisco_: I don't understand  
_smettila_: stop it  
_mia cara:_ my darling  
_Fata Regina:_ Fairy Queen (Diana)  
_Dea Matrona:_ Mother Goddess  
_la madonna del fuoco:_ lady of fire  
_fuoco fatuo:_ will o'the wisp, literally "fool's fire"; a delusive or misleading hope  
_madre, mi perdoni:_ Mother, forgive me  
_Deus, Principium et Finis: _(Latin) God, the beginning and the end  
_Pater Noster_: (Latin) Our Father  
_Atah…Le Olam, Amen:_ (Hebrew) Thou art the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever, Amen.  
_torihanaso:_ (Japanese) let go  
_yamero:_ (Japanese) stop  
_Okaasan:_ (Japanese) Mother  
_yamenasai:_ (Japanese) stop  
_onegai:_ (Japanese) please  
_Sumimasen deshita:_ (Japanese) I'm so sorry  
_oshiete:_ (Japanese) tell me

* * *

Be sure to check the Hieros Gamos comm on LJ (link in profile) to obtain the soundtrack for these last two chapters. Thank you for reading:heart::heart::heart: 


	21. Epilogue: Altar

**A/N: **Finally. It is done!!! (dun-dun-_duuuuuuunnnn_)

Enjoy.

* * *

**The Burning Time**

**Epilogue: Altar**

* * *

They came to her doorstep, the two; side-by-side, their hands laced and heads bowed. Jana saw their approach from the window, and the sight made the corners of her mouth turn slightly upwards. She had foreseen it, but the irrefutable proof of what had transpired in _il Campo_ before her was a welcome comfort.

_So. It has finally happened._

"Jana." Robin had released her partner's hand, and came running up the stone steps toward her, throwing her arms around her. "_Nonna…_"

"_Mia bambina._" She held the girl tightly, smiling over the chestnut-blonde head tucked next to hers. Her dark green eyes lighted on Amon, as he stood at the foot of the cobblestone stairs watching them, and his own gray eyes met hers. A brief nod passed between them; this time not of recognition, as had been their first meeting on Jana's porch—but one of acknowledgement, and forgiveness.

Robin clung to her fiercely, and her breath gave the slightest hitch as she whispered in her grandmother's ear. "_Nonna_…Juliano…"

"_Lo so, bambina, lo so._" Jana patted her back comfortingly.

"It shouldn't have happened that way," the young Witch whispered, "I should have stopped them, I shouldn't have let—"

But Jana was shaking her head as she pulled her granddaughter back to look into her face. "There was nothing you could have doneIt had been his choice to stay behind in Pisa. He knew they would come for him. He was only hoping to delay them, to buy as much time as possible." She stroked the chestnut-blonde hair gently. "It was part of the exchange, _bambina._"

"The exchange?"

"I don't expect you to understand now, Robin," Jana said gently, knowingly. "But someday, you will."

They quietly packed what little belongings they had left at the farmhouse. She kept close observance as they did, packing a small basket of food in the kitchen for their trip. As Robin went to check another room, Amon found himself briefly alone with Jana, and they shared a moment of respectable silence.

He spoke to her lowly, their backs to one another. "You foresaw everything that happened?"

"Yes." Her voice was serenely quiet.

He turned to regard her out of the corner of his eye. "The knowledge of Juliano's fate weighed heavily on you."

Jana was wordless for a few moments, during which he debated the wisdom of his question. Finally he heard her sigh.

"Everything that happened, did so as according to the cosmic design of things. Juliano's sacrifice, when Robin was weak, necessitated her surrender. Her surrender and her impending death were what triggered your memories. Your memories facilitated your awakening."

"It's a high price to pay for what has been given to me." His voice held a trace of guilt.

Jana turned toward him at his words, and crossed the few steps that separated them to lay her hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "You are blameless. Don't trouble yourself because of it. His gesture was not in vain—he died knowing he was fulfilling what needed to be done." She met his eyes firmly and evenly, as she squeezed his shoulder. "It is _my_ burden, Amon; and mine alone to know."

Their countenances, momentarily darkened, began to lighten again as Robin re-entered the kitchen. Jana stepped back to the basket she was preparing, directing her question to Amon, who looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "How will you travel?"

"We'll take the car as far as we can," he answered, as he watched Robin cradling Bast in her arms. "It may give us away at some point, so we're prepared to take a route by water if we must."

Jana stopped packing, and turned to face them. "I still do not think it is wise to leave Italy now. Not with what is coming on the horizon—"

"It's only for a short time, _Nonna_," Robin reminded her. "We can't allow them to trace us here—not yet. It's too dangerous for you right now, if we stay."

"We need to throw them off for a while," Amon continued as he finished tying things up. "We'll return when it's safe for us—and you—to do so."

"Don't be gone long," Jana warned gently. "There will be a gathering here, soon; the likes of which have not been seen for thousands of years. They will come, in search of you both." Her voice dropped with gravity. "They will look for you to guide them."

"We will be back," Robin promised, returning to her grandmother's side and laying a comforting hand on the older woman's arm. "We promise we will."

Jana looked at both, from one to the other. "Where will you go?"

Now Robin paused, and turned to her partner to glimpse his expression. What she saw, as their eyes briefly met, traveled to her lips; but it was not only her mouth that smiled.

"Anywhere," she answered softly, before her voice strengthened as she turned back to her grandmother. "We can go anywhere."

**)O(**

Amon shut the backseat of the BMW, after loading the last of their articles into it. Robin and Jana watched him from the porch, Bast seated near their ankles. Amon had loathed the idea of leaving the cat behind; but on the run was not an ideal condition to bring a pet. She would be safer in Sovana, for now.

The young Witch put her arms around her grandmother once more and held her tightly. "_Arrivederci_," she whispered. "We will see you soon, _si?_"

Jana hugged her warmly, and pulled back to hold her by the shoulders. Her expression turned momentarily serious. "Remember they will be looking, all of them, towards you now to help them," she said. "Teach them what you know. Teach them of the responsibility of having such power." Her eyes lightened again, overflowing with mirth and love.

She kissed her granddaughter on the cheek once more and sent her off, nodding in Amon's direction. "_Ciao cara._ Your _consorte_ awaits you." Robin headed down the steps two at a time to where he waited, the engine purring as he started the car. With one last look at Jana standing before the farmhouse, the young chestnut-haired girl smiled again and opened the passenger door, sliding in before shutting it behind her. The car pulled out of the driveway in reverse and headed onto the main road, picking up speed as it went.

They passed the archway, the entrance into the _via de Mezzo_, and Robin saw that many of the Sovanan villagers had come to the crest of the hill underneath the arch to watch them depart. They had recognized the car, and were waving and shouting.

Robin gave a soft gasp of startled pleasure, which caught Amon's attention. She laughed quietly at some of the children, running as though they made to chase after the car despite its distance from them.

He watched her for a long moment; then without a word he removed one hand from the wheel and covered hers, which rested on the middle console. He entwined his fingers with her own, squeezing gently.

They rode on in amicable silence, out of the boundary of Sovana.

**)O(**

Alone in her kitchen, Jana stopped before the table and looked down at the sealed and unopened envelope that had arrived several days earlier by mail. She picked it up, turning it over and re-reading the scrawled handwriting of her name on the front before finally opening it to read.

**My darling Jana,**

**Forgive me for not contacting you again sooner. I am under close scrutiny at the monastery here in Pisa, and I was afraid this letter would be intercepted. I am designating a special carrier to deliver it for me to ensure that will not happen.**

**I have many such apologies to make to you, and many trespasses to ask you to forgive; so numerous to count, that I do not know where to begin. I will start by requesting your forgiveness for my rash decision of placing you in danger, by sheltering our granddaughter and her warden. But this decision has a purpose: and that is, to fulfill what it is that Toudou and our daughter, Maria, wanted so badly that they willingly sacrificed their own lives for it.**

**Most of this you already know. I have never doubted your powers of intuition and foresight. But I believe my own mind has been something of a mystery to you, since you have known me; and I wish to elucidate my reasons for doing as I have done.**

**You are well aware that when Maria confessed on her deathbed in Japan to what she and Toudou had done, I was enraged. I was infuriated. I took it upon myself to end Robin's life, then and there…but when I saw her little face—so angelic, just as her mother's had been—I was made weak, and could not do it. **

**Maria had made me promise to her, before she took her last breath, that I would do one thing for her. 'Make sure she finds him,' she had said, 'he who she was meant for.' She told me his name, a man of Japanese descent—just a young boy of ten at the time. She said the boy was the product of the experiments of Toudou's mentor, an Italian scientist named Benedetto. She told me that Robin, when old enough, must meet this man—at all costs—and that she would need to awaken him. She told me nothing more.**

**For so many years, I did not understand what she could have possibly meant by this. I was raising Robin in a convent under the tutelage of SOLOMON, as a bride of Christ. I had no intention of allowing her to be 'meant' for anyone. Seeds and Witches, as you well know _mia cara_, are solitary creatures, not only by choice but by a mandate of the organization.**

**But with time I remembered something you had taught me…and that was the duality of nature, as it related to _la vecchia religione_, and the dynamic between the male and female energies. What Maria had said, made me think that somehow Benedetto's and Toudou's work were connected. **

**I delved into research, into the Vatican's dusty archives. I read the Latin translations of the _Sephir Yetzirah_ and the _Zohar_, the ancient founding texts of the organization; and there in combination with the information collected from Toudou's journal, I stumbled upon what I believed to be the truth of both scientists' ultimate endeavors; indeed, I realized the true source of SOLOMON's indoctrination, concerning the ancient Arcanum of the Craft. **

**The _Adam Kadmon_—the Perfect Man, the Primordial Man…in our terms, the Perfect Witch. Only, it was not one single Witch—it was two, comprised of male and female, united. In even more archaic texts, this Perfect blending of the male and female is known as the Divine Androgyne.**

**This is Robin's destiny. As the female half of this 'Perfect Witch', she is to reinstate order in the world of Witches. She, as well as her counterpart, will allow the revitalization and resurgence of Witches—who, in ages past according to Toudou's journal, were known as gods.**

**I fought with my conscience for many years after this discovery. To even unearth such information, in SOLOMON's eyes, is heresy. To continue with Toudou and Maria's plan now, in the face of such knowledge and wisdom, was something far worse. And yet, I could not imagine sacrificing her for the good of the organization. Though she was not like Maria in many ways, I loved her as my daughter and as my granddaughter, just the same. Her heart is pure.**

**When Robin's powers finally and inevitably awoke, in a fiery proclamation that the time was come—I began training her as a Hunter. I did not allow her to kill, but instead gave her every available tool I had in my disposal, to allow her to survive. A year later I fulfilled Maria's dying wish, and I sent her to Japan, directly into Amon's care. I maintained constant, vigilant contact with her during her time in Japan, under the guise of instructing her with regard to the 'Arcanum'. **

**When I heard from Inquisitor Cortion that she had killed to protect Amon in the heat of battle, I knew. It had been her trial, in my eyes. Cortion had not known what she was, and simply thought I desired to know the extent of Robin's powers, as well as the fact that she seemed to have become too close to one of her partnered operatives. In my concern that Cortion would leak such information to higher clergy, and draw their attention to her, perhaps even garnering an inquiry; I ordered Robin's hunt—but I directed Zaizen at STN-J to have it be led by Amon, himself.**

**This would test them—both of them. She was more than capable of protecting herself…but would he be able to carry out his orders handed down by Zaizen? Was he still Zaizen's minion? I felt degenerate for using Robin as a tool to clarify it; but I needed to know. If a man such as Amon—having been brainwashed nearly his entire life by SOLOMON—had been able to bind himself to her strongly enough to spare her life…then perhaps there was hope for Robin's survival after all. Perhaps in a way I believed more strongly in Amon's sense of judgment, having watched over him from afar since he was a child, than my own. **

**My hopes were confirmed when Amon left Japan to meet me in Rome, brandishing the letter I'd sent her absolving her of guilt, demanding to know what it meant. When I heard what had transpired at Raven's Flat immediately before, I knew. It was done. He would not kill her. He was hesitating—and from what Zaizen had told me of him, Amon did not hesitate, ever.**

**Part of me was filled with hope—the same hope that Maria had said her daughter carried within her—and for the first time in so long, my Jana, I realized what I had given up when I had joined the ranks of the organization so long ago. Besides you, and a warm and loving relationship with my daughter, I had sacrificed that which no man, Witch or human, should ever yield to anyone. I had given up my hope, my will; the parts of me that governed my destiny.**

**I sent him back to Japan with few answers, and sent Sastre and Cornelli, two of my best Hunters, after Robin, to do the job that Amon hesitated to do. I now knew where his loyalties lay…and it was not with SOLOMON. I accepted that; I even gave him hints of where to look for information regarding Robin's origins. He will ultimately have to find all the answers for himself, and I do not begrudge him or Robin to do so. **

**If what Maria confessed to me on her deathbed was true, that Robin was designed for him, for the Adam of their race—of _our_ race—and he for her, and that together they will end this destructive cycle of oppression and bloodshed…then I wish it to be so. But for this to happen, he must become what he was meant to become…and you must see that it happens, Jana, my beloved, at all costs. If not, everything we have lost will have been for naught.**

**I wish to tell you something more. I know now, wholeheartedly, what I have suspected for so many years; and that is I was wrong, _so wrong_, Jana, to have abandoned you for the brotherhood. It was not enough to protect you from them. I should have stood against them. I was weak, and a fool. I did what I did believing I was a pious man of God. Instead, I drove away the two people I loved most in this world…something that I can never undo. I can only hope, my Jana, that you are more forgiving of my trespasses than I am.**

**The hour of reckoning is upon me; my own life is now forfeit. For when they learn the extent of my infidelity, I will not be forgiven…no matter how many Craft-users I have trained for them.**

**I will wait for you then, in that place of eternal summer; that green and quiet land you spoke of to me so long ago, when both the world and I were younger and I still believed in magic, and in love, and my heart was not so tainted with hatred and righteousness. I will be waiting for you there to join me.**

**I fear my time is short; their army moves ever closer in stealth. You know what must be done now. Be quick, my love.**

**J.**

She folded the letter gently, her hands lingering over the seam, looking out of the window of her home.

* * *

"Each soul and spirit prior to its entering into this world, consists of a male and female united into one being. When it descends on this earth the two parts separate and animate into two different bodies. At the time of marriage, the Holy One, blessed be He, who knows all souls and spirits, unites them again as they were before, and they again constitute one body and one soul, forming as it were the right and left of one individual."  
—The Hebrew _Zohar_

"And when they are conjoined together, they appear to be only one body. Hence we learn that Masculine, taken alone appeareth to be only half the body, so that all the mercies are half; and thus also is it with the Feminine.

" 'But when they are joined together, the two together appear to form only one whole body. And it is so.' So also here. When the Male is joined with the Female, They both constitute one complete body, and all the Universe is in a state of happiness, because all things receive blessing from their perfect body. And this is an Arcanum."  
—_The Kabbalah Unveiled_

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Translations:

_Nonna:_ Grandmother  
_mia bambina:_ my child  
_lo so:_ I know  
_arrivederci_: goodbye (not final)  
_si:_ yes  
_ciao cara:_ bye darling  
_buon viaggio:_ godspeed  
_la vecchia religione:_ the old religion

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A/N: And it's done! Hope you enjoyed. Be on the lookout for the first chapter of the sequel, soon.

You guys are the best. Thanks for encouraging me through the finale of this monstrous fic!

Misora


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